This Is Not a Love Story
by Witnessed
Summary: ...even when it is. Neither of them intended for it to happen. (Peggy x Don, Peggy x Ted, later there will be a very slight Peggy x Roger, spoilers for 7A, mostly AU after that)
1. Late Nights

**_Author's Note: _**_I started writing this before the new season, and thought that I'd wait the new season out and see where I should edit my fic. However, the last episode was too depressing, so I'm just going to post this instead. Enjoy!_

* * *

Neither of them had intended for it to happen.

It was a trying time at Sterling Cooper and Partners. With the company's latest merger with giant McCann Erickson, everyone found themselves caught up in the red tape of bureaucracy. Despite the promise that Sterling Cooper and Partners would retain their independence, Jim Hobart seemed to have his fingers in every nook and cranny of the agency. He was constantly demanding they drop accounts due to conflicts, he kept 'stopping by' to snoop on the partners, and any time someone placed a call to one of McCann's departments, it was obvious that no one was taking them seriously. Their creative work now had to be run past McCann's creative team before it could be presented to the client, and they seemed to enjoy sending Don back to the drawing board. His agency was being neutered, with the exception of Harry Crane, who seemed to have fallen in Jim Hobart's good graces.

"This is bullshit." Peggy said, angrily jabbing her cigarette butt into the ashtray. "We have to spend all this time creating great pieces of advertising, only to get shit on by them and chase our tails trying to figure out what McCann wants, and what the client wants, and how we can reconcile them."

"Everyone knows it's bullshit Peggy. Nothing good comes from serving two masters." Don sighed, sipping his Canadian Club as he looked through McCann's latest rejection. Apparently their latest ideas for a Sunkist commerical had been 'too hippie' – the girls looked too loose, the sun was too bright, and no one in New York would want to buy something that looked like an advertising campaign for the state of California.

To be honest, Don was rather melancholy with his extra work. He despised being overrun by the talentless hacks at the sausage factory, but he felt a sort of calm when working in the silence of the evening with Peggy. It was a distraction from his divorce and his vices, to a certain extent, and if he was honest with himself, working with Peggy was almost as satisfying as being alone.

It was almost 10pm, and this was not an unusual work day for either of them. It had been months and months of working until late evening, working on the weekends, working until Peggy thought her brain would explode. She felt a nervous tension that ran through her, ready to be released. Maybe it was just the nicotine. Maybe it was her fear that her chances at love and family were steadily slipping through her grasp with every night she spent at the office.

"I should have listened to Joan on the first day." She sighed, slumping back on the couch, propping her stocking-clad feet on Don's coffee tale. "She told me if I played my cards right I would marry some rich man and live out in the country and raise children. Now I just work for children. Why is she always right?" Don smiled into his copy and took another sip of his drink.

"What happened to that guy that you went to Paris with? I thought you liked him." Peggy made a face.

"He was a lawyer. There's only so long you can hide the fact that you're an asshole before your trousers are around your ankles and you're mooning the world." Don looked up at her and smirked, his green eyes lightly glassed over from the cumulative drinks of the day.

"We should work that into the ad for Hugo Boss. See what McCann thinks about that." Peggy's face lit up as she laughed, and Don grinned again, glad that he could put a few feet of distance between her and her souring mood. He rose to his feet and approached his liquor cabinet, raising his eyes at her and motioning towards the bottles of alcohol.

"Sure. I'm probably going to wind up sleeping on my couch again anyway." The copywriter got up and Don took her glass, throwing a couple more ice cubes in before pouring her whiskey. Peggy took her drink and shifted, leaning her hip against the cart and looking at her director carefully.

"How about you, Don? How are the divorce proceedings going?" He sighed as he poured, and threw back a quick gulp before answering.

"OK. It has been amicable, Megan hasn't fought me on anything. I think she just wants me out of her life as soon as possible." Peggy nodded, looking at her glass and tracing the rim with her index finger.

"I really like Megan. I can see why you chose her. I'm sorry it didn't work out." Don liked that about Peggy. She didn't go overboard on platitudes and reassurances, didn't dig further than he wanted to go. There was a mutual understanding of where the line of conversation ended, an appreciation of all that was not said but that they both knew.

For Peggy, Don's company was reassuring in some ways. He had two ex-wives, three children, and he was still a miserable mess. Perhaps she wasn't missing as much as she thought she was. They were both stuck in the same place, except Don had alimony payments to make. 'Damn it,' she reflected. 'I could be collecting alimony payments.'

"Well, that's the way it goes." He looked into her eyes and held her gaze, her bold blue irises looking for some sort of emotion behind it, but she couldn't seen any. He was just calm, steady, and slightly drunk. She admired that about him. He may be a mess, but somehow he always came back up.

"Here's to Mrs. Draper the third." She said smiling, and raised her glass. Don smiled at her again as he clinked their glasses together and they drank deeply.

"Say Peggy, I haven't married you yet." He raised his eyebrow. "Are you ready to have your life ruined?"

"I don't need any help with that, Don. Besides, you ruined my work with St. Joseph's. Don't think I've forgotten about that! You also didn't let me go to Paris." She mockingly pointed a stern finger towards him, eyes narrowing as she swayed. Don put down his drink and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in closely to him, and started to tickle her.

"Don, what the hell!" Peggy giggled as her creative director pulled her blouse out of her skirt and began tickling her sides. "Stop it!"

"Come on, Peggy. You can't be _that_ mad at me. You're giggling!"

"Don't tell me how I _feel_!" She squealed, and finally lost her balance. Her glass flew through the air and hit Don's desk, shattering as it landed. Don tried to grab her, but Peggy wound up taking him down too, and they dissolved into a giggling mess on his immaculate carpet.

"I think you are more drunk than I gave you credit for." She grinned, matching her mentor's own smile.

Don paused, his mouth relaxing as they laid face-to-face. He didn't know what came over him. He could have blamed the alcohol, or the relatively long period of celibacy he had been through (two weeks at this point). But he felt some sort of explosion, somewhere deep inside of him, and suddenly there seemed to be only one thing to do. He kissed his coworker, long and hard.

Peggy wasn't sure what was happening until she felt his warm lips on hers, and smelt the intoxicating scent of his cologne and the Canadian whiskey on his breath. Her heart stopped, and she felt herself go limp, her own lips unsure of themselves. After what seemed like an eternity, Don withdrew and looked her deeply in the eyes with a dark glaze of lust.

"Don..." she croaked finally. "We can't do this."

"Peggy," he sounded exasperated, and a gentle, beseeching look overtook him. "We are adults. I am getting divorced. You aren't dating anyone. We are both couped up in this office until Jim Hobart shuffles off of his mortal coil. Let's at least enjoy ourselves a little." He paused, gazing intensely at his protege, and when he began again, his voice was low and sultry. "It only has to be this once, and then it'll be like nothing had ever happened."

Peggy was aware that it wasn't a particularly great argument, and really felt like she shouldn't give in without a truly inspiring sales pitch from Don. She had earned at least that from him. The small, mousy secretary in her was quietly whispering to get away from what could only turn into a clusterfuck. A much more primal part of her, that seemed to flow in her blood, made the decision. She grabbed the back of Don's head, and mashed her lips against his.

After, they lay gasping on Don's carpet, his head nestled on her sternum between her breasts. His fingers gentling rubbing circles on her hip. She ran her hand through his hair before reaching up to the coffee table and grabbing her pack of cigarettes. Don was a good lover technically, Peggy thought. He made the right movements, expertly responded to her gasps and moans, but there was something missing. Don didn't make love – he had sex. Like he was scratching an itch.

"Want one?" She asked. He let out a low chuckle.

"Sure." He repositioned himself on his elbows and grabbed a Lucky Strike from the package Peggy gave him. "Do you have a lighter?" Peggy groaned.

"Shit. It's on couch somewhere." Don gave her a small kiss on her stomach and got up, retrieved the lighter and lit both of their cigarettes before sitting down on the couch, eyes gazing out of the window of his office, both of them smoking in the afterglow.

"Well," Peggy finally broke the silence. "Who would have seen that coming?"

"Everyone already thinks you slept with me, Pegs. We're behind the times on this."

"No," Peggy got up and started fixing her skirt and shirt. "Everyone thinks that I slept with you to become a copywriter. I don't think I'm getting anything from this." Don shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. Peggy finished putting herself together, and took a moment to stare at Don, trying to figure out exactly where this put them. He gave her no hints, and just continued to stare stoically out into Manhattan.

"It's time for me to go home. I'll see you tomorrow." Don finally looked at her and nodded.

"Have a safe ride."

"Don't drink too much more. If you're drunk enough to sleep with me, the furniture might not be safe." She turned to leave, but he called her name and she stopped and looked back around into his steady gaze.

"Sleeping with you wasn't a mistake." He said quietly. "But I don't want it to change the dynamic of this company. We have enough shit going on without more conflict between the people of this agency." Peggy stared for a moment, nodded, and turned back around and walked out of his office.


	2. Menswear

Peggy walked into the office the next morning, and for the first time since the previous merger, felt awkward in her surroundings. The entire building seemed to be tinged by a different light, the conversations around her felt foreign and unimportant. Stan's usual antics didn't amuse her like they had only a day ago, and she felt like refusing every call that came to her.

"Stop it." She whispered to herself, taking another look at Topaz's latest campaign. "Don't make it weird for yourself."

"You make it weird for all of us when you talk to yourself, Peggy." Stan raised his eyebrow at her.

"Shut up Stan."

"Hey, don't get mad at me." Stan held up his hands innocently. "I just don't want you to pull a Ginsberg on me. Although, if you're going to chop off your nipple, could you give me the whole breast? You could be like some Amazon woman and get a bow and arrow." Peggy shut her file angrily, glaring at her coworker.

"You're a pervert. And insensitive."

"You like it."

"You have no clue what women like." She snapped, and went to grab her purse. "I am going to go and get coffee."

"OK, but we have a meeting with Don to discuss that new menswear account in 5 minutes."

"Shit. I forgot." Peggy sat back down and lightly banged her head on the desk. She retrieved her cigarettes from her drawer and lit one up. "I don't know why they want me on this. What do I know about men's fashion? This isn't something that wives go down to the drugstore and buy for their husbands. Men go in and buy their own suits." Stan shrugged and twiddled his pencil between his fingers.

"But are men really dressing for themselves, or are they dressing because they want women to be attracted to them?" Peggy snorted.

"That obviously isn't a concern for you."

"I know. I'm most irresistible naked."

"I guess your only kryptonite is a hotel room." She retorted. Stan looked down, and although it was hard to tell beneath the forest growing on his face, she was pretty sure he was blushing. Peggy smirked, and busied herself grabbing research and notepads, trying not to think more than four minutes into the future.

* * *

"So." Don sat in his chair, surveying the creative gathering around him. "We're finally breaking into Men's Wear. Hugo Boss wants to have a much larger presence in America. It's going to be hard – they're a German brand, and the kind of customer they want to attract hasn't forgotten World War II yet. Our advertising has to be sensitive, tasteful, and completely by-pass the mention of war, nationality and Channukah." John and Stan chuckled, but Peggy's face was a humourless slate. Don eyed her cautiously while putting out his cigarette. "Any ideas?" There was a moment of silence before Peggy opened her mouth.

"What about the word 'boss'? I think that men want to be seen as powerful, as masters of their own destinies. What if we had a television commercial where there is this big retirement party for the CEO of a company. We can state that with a sign at the entrance, 'Welcome to the retirement out of CEO, Mr. So-and-So'. There are hundreds of beautiful women there, done up to the nines, and all of their husbands, milling around, and we focus on this handsome man. He's making some small talk with another man and his wife, and someone approaches him and says 'Excuse me, you must be Mr. So-and-So.' The man smiles graciously and he says 'No, Mr. So-and-So is actually at the front'. The approaching man apologises and before he leaves, says 'But I bet you're next in line.' Then they both smile, and a voice-over says the tagline." Don looked at her critically, and Peggy felt smaller than that look had made her feel in a long time.

"So we're saying that Hugo Boss isn't for rich men, but poor ones trying to look rich? We're saying that wearing Hugo Boss makes you look like you're at retirement age? How much is a scene with hundreds of extras going to cost? What kind of grand ballroom are we going to have to rent out? And the dialogue sounds like the usual bullshitting that goes on at these events, not like the guy is actually going onto bigger things. What else do you guys have?" Stan and John kept silent, while Peggy looked down at her lap. Finally, Don sighed and noted "The boss theme isn't a bad one. Just find a way to do it better. Go off and work on this right now, we need a presentation by Monday afternoon."

"Jesus, are we going to be stuck here over the weekend _again_?" Stan asked.

"If that's what it takes." Don replied. "The marketing team from Germany is meeting the American Hugo Boss executives on Monday morning, followed by a meeting with us Monday afternoon. It needs to get done." Peggy led the shuffle to the doorway, and Don let out a sigh as John shut the door after them.

He was irritated, partly by Peggy and partly by himself. Of course she couldn't sweep sex aside so easily. She was Catholic. He always seemed to conveniently forgetful that sex mattered a lot more to other people than to him. However, there was also a seed of something else. He had the power to make her uncomfortable, to doubt herself. It was a power he enjoyed. When he and Teddy had flown back from Chevy, Don had insisted that he come along to the office to tell Peggy. Part of it was rectifying his past mistake, and making her a genuine offer of employment, rather than commanding obedience. She had earned his respect this time around. Another part, and perhaps the bigger half of the whole, was that he wanted to let her know that no matter where she ran to, he would find her, and bring her back into the fold. She had looked trapped, and Don had felt a sense of accomplishment. He had made her, and no protege forsakes their mentor that easily.

Don lit another cigarette and turned his chair to face the window. This would blow over, he knew. Eventually, it would be like nothing had ever happened.

* * *

Peggy sat back at her office, staring at the ceiling of her office. 'Hugo Boss. Hugo Boss. Huuuuuggoooo Booossssss... men. Men in suits. Confident men. Men with everything they wanted. Because they had the suit. The suit brings them endless riches. Not only financially, but life's riches as well.' She made a scribble on her notepad before she heard a knock at the door.

"Come in." She said, and checked her watch. Where was Stan? He had promised her tuna on rye half an hour ago.

"Hi Peggy, I hope this isn't a bad time." Peggy felt the blood drain from her face and into her heart, which seemed to have picked up speed. Of course. The only thing that could make this day better.

"Hello Ted." For a moment, Ted stood in the doorway, indecisive about whether he was allowed in. He then took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him.

"Peggy, we have to talk."

"Well," she felt her mouth go dry, and her mind raced. "If this is about the Sunkist campaign, I'm sorry but we're incredibly busy and I won't be able to make time for it until next week and -" Ted shook his head and waved his hands.

"No, no. That can wait, I know you guys are busy right now and I don't want to take up a lot of your time." He took another breath, and fixed her with an earnest gaze. "Peggy, I am getting divorced." She felt her stomach drop, and the colour rush back into her cheeks.

"Oh. I'm sorry Ted."

"No Peggy, I am sorry. I know that I promised you that I was going to leave her, but then like a coward I ran off to California to try to save something that I knew couldn't and shouldn't be saved." He waited a moment before adding "She and the kids are staying out there. I'm alone in New York now." Peggy nodded, but her mind was blank and she couldn't find any words. "I know that you probably don't want to see me, or talk to me ever again, and I understand that. But I'd like to have the chance to make it up to you. I don't know if you'd ever see me as relationship material again, but I thought we could at least have a good working relationship. I'd like to take you out to dinner tomorrow. I'm not expecting anything, I just want to be on good terms, like we used to be." Peggy looked into his earnest smile, and felt conflicted between her anger and the joy of having him look at her like _that_ again. Like with the two of them together, they could conquer mountains and cure the common cold.

"Ted, I-" Peggy took a deep breath and looked at her desk. "I'm not sure." Ted nodded, looking like a kicked puppy, and she couldn't help but feel badly.

"Look, I don't want to push you into anything. If you decide you only want to talk to me when absolutely necessary, I will respect that. But I will give you my phone number if you decide you're willing to give me a second chance. It doesn't need to be dinner on Saturday. It can be coffee on Sunday, or lunch on Monday. This time, I mean it when I say it: I will drop everything to see you." Ted grabbed a piece of paper on Peggy's desk and scrawled out his number on one of her notepads. Peggy nodded, still not looking at him. Once again he stood awkwardly at the doorway, until he finally showed himself out the door.

Peggy couldn't say this was her shittiest day at work. She had been through a lot worse that weird tension with Don and awkward encounters with Ted. But she was ready for the day to end, both of them to leave, and to console herself with work.

* * *

She wound up sending Stan and John home at 6, telling them she expected them back in the office by 10am the next morning. As per usual, at 8pm she was still working, and would be back in the office by 8am, if she bothered leaving. She needed to create the basis of a few more ads before the other two came in again, as she hoped that if she had some ideas ready to go, their collective time in the office would be a minimum. She knew that Stan was madly in love with a new girl he was seeing, and didn't want to intrude on that more than necessary. Besides, neither of them had pissed her off too badly in the last week, so they deserved a break.

In fact, she deserved a break too. A vacation. Maybe she'd go to Rome this time. Or Madrid. Get some sun, learn a language, find a hot European lover... maybe she wouldn't come back. She'd live on the beach and catch oysters and never grow old.

"Peggy?"

And just like that her fantasy was ruined. Don stood her in doorway, with his hat and coat on and his briefcase in hand.

"Oh," she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. "I thought that you had already left."

"And I thought you had too." He replied. He looked at her as if he was trying to figure out a grand puzzle, and it made Peggy want to smack her creative director in the face. "Why didn't you come to my office? If you're working on the Hugo Boss ad, I could have helped."

"I thought you were gone." She repeated, and glanced nervously from her desk to the clock. Don sighed, and put down his case and his hat as he stepped into the office.

"Peggy, if this is about last night - "

"No!" She shouted out, surprising the both of them. She took a moment to smooth the folds of her skirt as she sighed. "No Don. That was... what it was. I just need some time to myself to think about all of our campaigns. It gets a little too hectic and noisy during the day." She managed to raise her eyes and give a pleading smile, mentally begging him not to push the issue. Don nodded, and almost looked as if he was going to say something else. But then he just nodded again, and turned back around towards the door.

"Goodnight Peggy."


	3. Cookies and drugs

When Don woke up Saturday morning, he wasn't surprised to find some strange brunette in his bed. Lindsay. Her name was Lindsay. He had gone to a bar to sort out his head, although he wasn't sure what he was clearing out. He just knew that he felt some disquiet rumbling deep within him, and usually a few drinks managed to buy him some time before he had to feel it again. What usually quashed it for the entire evening was taking some beautiful young woman home.

This evening was different, however. The chase, the conversation, the build up to taking her home was as titillating as always, but once he started to undress her everything had felt so bland and mundane. Like getting dressed in the morning. He had finished as quickly as he could, and then acted out of obligation when Lindsay had complained that she hadn't gotten hers, but for some reason it wasn't as gratifying as it usually was. She had fallen asleep and he had stared at the ceiling, debating internally about whether to kick her out right then or wait for the morning. However, Don knew it would be cruel to send her home at 3am, so he had simply ruminated until he managed to drift off.

He gently shook Lindsay's shoulder until she woke up. She turned her sleepy head towards him, and smiled. "Hey sexy."

"Hey." Don replied. "I don't want to rush you, but I have to go into the office today." Lindsay nodded, and stretched out in the bed, flexing her toes and hands.

"Want one more go before you head in?" She asked. Don shook his head.

"Sorry sweetheart, I'm already running late."

Don wasn't really going to the office. He needed a break. The entire creative team needed one, really, but Peggy would call him if the they needed something signed off on before Monday. No, Don reflected as he shaved. Going to the movies would clear his head.

* * *

Peggy sighed as she heard another knock at her office door.

"Come in." She said irritably, and was relieved to see Pete Campbell poke his balding head in. "Oh, thank God." She moaned. Pete raised an eyebrow.

"Don't mind the crazy cat lady in the corner." Stan replied affably. "She's had a hard week, apparently."

"Well then, I'm sure you're excited for next weekend to come up." He said with a pointed look at Peggy. She shot him a blank look. "Remember? We're flying to Ohio to pitch for Ciba? You, me, Don, Harry, Stan? This Thursday we are flying out? Presenting on Friday? Returning on Saturday?"

"Oh Jesus Christ." Peggy moaned, collapsing on her desk. "I had forgotten about that."

"Really?" Pete asked. "We're pitching to our first drug company, and it just slipped your mind? I hope the creative part didn't happen to fall through that sieve as well."

"Pete, why are you here on a weekend? You're _never_ here on a weekend." Peggy snapped.

"I'm playing golf with Nabisco." Peter said smugly. "I just needed to stop by and grab the paperwork for them to sign."

"Then go get it!" She shouted. "Aren't you going to be late?"

"If the boards aren't approved by Don by the end of Monday, I am going to have the entire creative team fired." Pete snapped back.

"Go hit some wildlife with your golf balls Pete." He shot a death glare at Peggy, and slammed the door as he left.

"Whoa." Stan wheeled his chair until he was on the other side of Peggy's desk. "You are on edge today Peg. Why didn't you tell him it had all been signed off on and it was ready to go?"

"I'm just sick of this place." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "We really need more people to be hired on creative. We've signed over seven million dollars in new business in the last month, and we're going after Ciba, and yet our team isn't getting any bigger."

"I'm just glad they don't have Harry's computer taking over creative." Stan responded.

"Well Harry's machine can only work 24 hours in a day, so they're stuck with us until they combine our offices to make space for a new one."

"Peggy, relax." Stan said. He went back to his desk and pulled out a joint. "Here, I think all the extra work is getting to you." Peggy snatched the joint from his fingers and pulled out a lighter.

"Is Pete gone?" She asked. Stan shrugged.

"Like that clown knows what grass smells like anyway." Peggy finally smiled and put the joint between her lips.

* * *

Don left 'Love Story' feeling a sort of melancholy. Although he would never admit it to anyone, he loved romance movies, probably for how shitty they made him feel afterwards. He always felt like a peeping tom, watching people strip down and lay out the most intimate, heartbreaking parts of themselves. An outsider looking into the world of people who knew how to love. There were very few moments he had genuinely connected with someone else, and never with anyone he had made love to. He had thought that sharing about his past, his secret shame, would bring out some sort of healing in him, but the more he talked about it the more empty and cheap his words felt. He seemed to be back at square one, except that now Anna was gone and no one else truly knew him. He could talk about Dick Whitman all he wanted, but as he had learned, talking about events had not built intimacy. As fond as he was of Roger, the man lacked the emotional intelligence to build any foundation only person he really felt any sort of connection with these days was Peggy. If Rachel hadn't died, he imagined that she would have truly known him. And yet, that scared him. He had had the time to create a relationship with her. But her probing questions, her icy intuition, scared him, and he had felt naked and vulnerable, and he had let the chance slip away. His relationship with Peggy was sometimes sharp, but always had a genteelness about it. It was never demanded more of him than he could give, and yet it always had room for him to grow.

The Hugo Boss campaign. He should check in on that. It had to be ready by Monday. Without thinking, he crossed his apartment to the phone, and called the office.

"Peggy Olson's office." He smiled, and he wasn't sure why.

"Hello Peggy." He cradled the receiver between his head and shoulder, reaching for a glass and some rye. There was a moment of silence.

"Hello Don. Why are you calling me on a Saturday? Shouldn't you be spending time with your kids or something?"

"No. Betty and Henry took them for a weekend holiday." He replied, pouring his drink. "I knew you'd be at the office."

"Yes, well, someone had to work on this over the weekend."

"How is it going?"

"Surprisingly well. I have a couple of ideas that I think will be good. Stan is really churning out the storyboards. I think he's going to get carpal tunnel syndrome."

"Think?" Don asked. "Good?" Peggy sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm really not sure exactly what is a great idea and what is a horrible idea anymore. Some moments I look at something and I think 'This is the idea that will get me a Clio.' Then I look at it after a drink and a cigarette, and I think 'Toilet paper. The agency is going to cut costs by using this shit as toilet paper.'" Don smiled again.

"We've had this conversation before. The best idea always wins. That's why you have creative teams. The best floats to the top." Peggy laughed.

"I guess your job is to fish it out of the bowl then?" Don took a sip.

"That is why they pay me the big dollars."

"I think this conversation just killed my appetite."

"Good. By cutting out dinner you can get it all done and have Sunday off." Peggy sighed, and Don felt her disapproval. If he had learned nothing else, he knew not to undervalue Peggy's work ethic and creativity. "Why don't you take Tuesday off? We'll throw a couple of pitches to Hugo on Monday, and when you return to work on Wednesday we'll run through the Cibo pitch before heading out on Thursday."

"That would work." Peggy said simply.

"Do you want me to come in and look at your ideas?"

"No. We have quite a few, we'll be able to pitch the great ones when you review them on Monday."

"OK." He waited until he heard the click of Peggy hanging up her receiver before hanging up his own.


	4. Whiskey and Planes

**_Author's Note: _**_Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews and follows! I am glad that there are people out there enjoying this. In anticipation of the series final tomorrow, I thought I would post this now. I'm currently working on chapter 8, and this is a surprisingly easy story to write for me. So, because I am a shameless attention whore who needs the validation of others, I am implementing a new policy: every time I got a review, I will post a chapter. Terms and conditions: chapters will be posted no earlier than 3 days apart from each other, and the policy will be null and void if you guys catch up to me and I have nothing written. If no one reviews, I will post a chapter, on average, about once a week. Thank you all for your support, and I'll see you after the final episode!_

* * *

Don was napping on his couch when the buzzer rang.

"Mr. Draper, Mr. Chaough to see you." He rose with a groan and ran a hand over his hair.

"Send him in." Ted opened the door and looked around before stepping in the office.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Don shook his head and reached for his cigarettes

"What can I help you with?"

"To be honest, this is a personal matter." Ted replied, closing the door. Don raised an eyebrow.

"I see. Well, have a seat." Ted sat in the chair by the door and looked at the creative director for a moment.

"What?" Don asked, irritated.

"Look, I know you have experience in these types of situations, and I wanted to get your opinion. I... I'm divorcing my wife. Well, the feeling is mutual, really. And the problem isn't really that. It's Peggy." Don raised both eyebrows as he took a drag, and waited for the red head to continue. "I just... I want to make things right with her, and I'm not sure how. I thought that you might know how to best approach her. I mean, you guys have worked together forever." Don exhaled his cigarette smoke, and fixed Ted with a sympathetic yet hard stare.

"What do you mean 'make it right'? Is this a work issue, or is this a romantic one?"

"I don't know." Ted ran a hand through his hair. "I keep thinking that I just want to be able to work with her, but I don't think that is all of it."

"Well, I don't know exactly what your history is..." Don trailed off, staring out the window as he continued to smoke. "But professionally, Peggy will work with you. She won't let the company fail for petty vengeance. Personally... well, one time she dumped her boyfriend over the phone for inviting her mother to her birthday dinner. She did this while her boyfriend and mother were in the restaurant. She is not particularly the forgiving type."

"What's wrong with that?" Ted asked, bewildered. "Women love their mothers."

"Only on their own terms." Don replied.

"Huh." Ted looked at Don thoughtfully, running his finger along the edge of his moustache. "So what should I do?"

"I don't know what you _should_ do. But I know what you _shouldn't_ do. Don't push her. The more you corner her, the worse she bites."

* * *

"It's Your Night, It's Your Life." Peggy said, handing Don the advert and stepping back to join John and Stan. Don furrowed his brow as he looked at it. On one side there was a man, dressed in a navy suit with a shot glass in his hand, smiling to a beautiful woman who was obviously entranced by him. On the other side, the same man was dressed in a light grey suit, a knowing smile on his face as he stood in front of a group of executives with the skyline of some generic but scenic buildings behind him.

"And the thought behind this?" Don asked, tapping the ash of his cigarette into his ashtray.

"John, Stan, this was before you were here, but at one time we were creating an ad for Playtex. On one side, we had Marilyn Monroe, and on the other side, Jackie Kennedy. The idea was that every woman was one or the other. However, it was actually the same model for both. I think men are actually much better suited for this idea. Men can have an exciting romantic life, being with as many women as they want, run home to their wives and children, and still be respected at the office. Women can't do this, because they get labelled as either a whore or a selfish, baron matron who has no femininity at all and is trying to do a man's work. This idea shows that Hugo Boss will garner respect when you're out at dinner with a date, or at the office making a presentation. Hugo Boss lets you have it all, and even better than that, you are in control of it. It's your night, and it's your life." Peggy stared her director down, daring him to criticize it. Don gave her a lingering look, and then glanced back at the story boards, taking another drag as he thought.

"So we're plagiarizing ourselves?" He asked idly. She glared.

"That ad never went to print." Don continued gazing at the board.

"Good work." He finally said, and Peggy smiled smugly.

"We were going to have him smoking in the board room, but since you have that entire anti-tabacco thing floating around your head, we decided not to." John added helpfully. Don glanced up.

"You can go." All three turned to leave. Don jutted his chin towards his copy chief. "Peggy, a moment." She returned to her previous spot as Stan and John filed out the door, closing it behind them.

"Yes?" She asked. Don took one last drag and stubbed out his cigarette.

"I don't usually get involved in the workplace dynamics, but it has come to my attention that Ted wants back in your good graces." He said, staring seriously at her. Peggy swallowed hard, and silence hung in the air.

"What about it?" She finally asked. Don stood up and went to his bar and grabbed the neck of his Canadian Club, and turned back around to face her.

"Make him work for it." He held the bottle out to her. "And always have a drink in your hand when you talk to him." She frowned and took the bottle.

"Why?"

"It loosens you up, makes you more confidant. He's sweating bullets trying to make you like him, and you couldn't care less. You're having a nice, leisurely drink. If monkeys didn't have shit to throw at each other, they'd drink to establish dominance." Peggy smiled and looked at the label.

"Don't you have any scotch?" She asked. Don raised an eyebrow, and poured from another bottle of Canadian Club.

"If I thought you would appreciate it, I'd give it to you." She frowned.

"Hey, I know my scotches! I've been working here long enough." Don dropped a few ice cubes in his whiskey and stared at her while taking a drink.

"I'm going to test you on that. If you pass, my personal 21 year old bottle is yours." Peggy rolled her eyes and shook her head, but also noticed that Don was right. Drinking WAS a dominance symbol. Or maybe it was just the way Don drank. Or did anything, really.

"I'll see you at the Hugo Boss meeting." She said evenly as she walked out.

* * *

Peggy looked out the window as the plane left the ground in New York. She loved flying, especially the take-off and landing. Stan was next to her, still working on storyboards for other campaigns.

"Peggy." He interrupted. "What do you think of this?" Peggy looked at his drawing of Pete, with an exaggeratedly failing hairline, jerking off the CEO of Nabisco as the man ejaculated cookies.

"Mature, Stan." She tried to sound disgusted, but her smile gave her away. Stan grinned and flipped the page, starting on another creation.

In the row ahead of them, Pete was excitedly talking to Don, his hands movingly wildly. Don was surprised. Pete seemed to be more excited about this pitch than anyone else, and he sensed that there was an underlying history that he didn't know.

"This is a fantastic opportunity." Pete exclaimed, face shining. "Not just for the company, Don, but we could be revolutionizing lives. Think of how many people could benefit from this drug. Most people don't even know that they have a problem! They think that life is terrible and that is just the way it is, but no! They have the chance to be happy, and all it takes is one pill a day. Who would think that you could trick the mind into being happy?" Don nodded, eyeing the younger man as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"It is going to be a hard sell. It needs a very delicate hand."

"And who better for that then you and Peggy?" Pete continued. "I mean, all of these other treatments for depression are barbaric! Electroshock therapy, lobotomies? We are in a new era of medicine! And we as an advertising agency can be at the forefront of it! We can destigmatize it! Hell, maybe we can get everyone and their dog taking these drugs! I'd like to be happy all the time."

"We'll have to see. If we get to do the advertising for this drug, it could either be a great success and lead us into doing the advertising for their other products, or it could flop and we brand the company as a leader in taking the money of neurotic housewives." Pete nodded, and for a moment there was silence.

"Have you ever seen someone before and after they've gone through electroshock therapy?" He asked suddenly. Don shook his head. Pete looked at him carefully for a moment, his eyes searching Don for some long lost memory. "The difference is incredible, and horrifying. They're much happier, but they don't remember you. Months and months of history is erased, and when they look at you, there is no recognition. They don't see the times that you were together, the memories that you made. They only see a stranger. And it isn't their fault – part of their mind has been fried. And they'll never get that time, those memories, back. The entire thing is inhuman." Don didn't quite know what to say, but was saved by the stewardess coming with the aisle with the drink cart. Don was just putting his whiskey on the tray in front of him, when he spied something out of the corner of his eye.

"Is Harry harassing the girl next to him?" He murmured, looking at the row adjacent. Pete twisted his head back and wrinkled his nose as he saw Harry repeatedly touching a girl who's body language was telling him to fuck off.

"Of course he is. God, when did he get to be such an ass?"

* * *

The five of them sat around a table at the hotel in Ohio, but Peggy felt sick to her stomach and couldn't do more than push her food around on her plate.

"This is going to be difficult to advertise." Harry said between bites of steak. "I mean, we don't really have data on what depressed people watch, for starters. Second, we have to be wary of the networks themselves. This is a difficult topic guys. Do they want their viewers watching 'The Brady Bunch' and suddenly have this depressing commercial come up, telling people that the Bradies don't exist and they're all secretly miserable inside?"

"But the commercial isn't going to be depressing." Pete shot back. "It is going to end happily, and everyone will go back to 'The Brady Bunch' with butterflies in their heart for how happy they are."

"Or should we advertise it during darker shows?" Harry continued like Pete hadn't even spoken. "Advertise during coverage of Vietnam, during documentaries about World War II and mustard gas?"

"You're supposed to have this figured out." Pete replied. "What happened to your media plan?"

"Oh, I have it. It's just that we're forging new ground here. No one has tried to advertise this on television before. We can make some educated guesses, but the best time and place to put the ads is still essentially a mystery."

"That gives us a chance to make history." Pete smiled at his own cleverness and took a drink.

"Are you OK Peggy?" Harry asked suddenly. She looked up from her lap and blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You just look really pale, like someone shot your dog." Peggy smiled and shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Peggy," Pete looked straight at her. "You wowed them at Burger Chef. I know that you can do it again. Don't doubt yourself. We wouldn't have you pitching this if we thought Don could do it better."

"I know." She smiled again and looked around the table unconvincingly. She couldn't help it – she felt like that lost, confused secretary that had started with Sterling Cooper all those years ago. She knew why Don had assigned her to this team. She knew. And in some ways, she was very excited for this. In other ways, she was terrified.

She noticed a family a few feet away, a mom and dad with a boy who looked to be about ten. She felt her heart squeeze. She knew Don was looking at her, but she couldn't bring herself to look back.


	5. Ohio's Finest

_**Author's Note:** Thank you so much everyone! I am incredibly sad that Mad Men has ended, but what an ending! I have been burying my sadness by writing excessively, and I hope that the ending has inspired a lot of people to continue the story in fan fiction. Thank you for your reviews and support!_

* * *

"Thank you for flying up here to meet with us." Three executives from Ciba sat across from the team, two men white white hair and dour faces and a younger man who sat self-assuredly but with interest.

"We're excited for this opportunity." Pete smiled.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but a lot of advertising agencies won't touch this." Lloyd, the most senior executive said in a low, grumbling smoker's voice. "They don't think the product will sell, and they don't want their agency tarnished with such a sensitive issue."

"You are lucky that we aren't like other agencies." Pete replied confidently. "I can say, without exaggeration, that we have the best creative team in America. We love the idea of forging new ground with this scientific achievement. It could help millions, and we know that, and we want to be part of that. I don't want to get too sentimental here, but one of our former partners committed suicide. Right in his office." Don shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This was _not_ part of what Pete had presented to him. "We never even knew that he was depressed. He was a wonderful man, and if he had known that there was help for whatever he was going through, I think he would still be here with us today. Imipramine is saving lives, and it could save a lot more if we are able to get the word out on a national scale." Lloyd nodded.

"I am sorry for your loss."

"It was tragic. He left behind his wife and children, and the company hasn't been the same without him. We know the importance of what your company is doing, and we want to be on the front lines with you."

"Well then, we are very excited to see what you have prepared." Lloyd replied, and Peggy knew that Pete had caught their interest. But could she hold it? She put on a smile and rose, trying to look confidant as she and Stan approached the storyboards.

"Depression is hard issue to get people to talk about, because it is so isolating. People don't _want_ to talk about it. They know something is wrong, but don't know how to articulate it. Well-meaning family and friends will say 'Buck up, this too shall pass.' But it doesn't, and the person doesn't know why they are so chronically unhappy. They blame themselves for being weak. They feel trapped, and they don't know how to 'buck up'. Praying doesn't fix it, making more money doesn't fix it, having a beautiful spouse and children doesn't fix it. And eventually, they stop trying. They withdraw, because nothing is helping them, and they've just given up." Peggy paused and Stan unveiled the first board. "We wanted to show the viewer what the world looks like from the point of view of a depressed person. We wanted to really enter their minds, because the perception of a depressed person is completely different from reality. We chose to do this in an animated format, because we didn't want our depressed person to be gender specific. It isn't only bored housewives who need this drug. Men, even professional men, as we've discussed, become depressed too. The entire ad will be drawn as though you are looking through this person's eyes. They are in bed, too depressed to get out. Everything is dark and foreboding. The lights are dim, the music will be slow and sad. In the first shot, a little boy comes in with a ball and asks to play. The entire frame will shake side to side, as if the person is shaking their head. No. Then a woman's voice calls out 'The phone is for you.' The frame shakes again. Then a man's voice calls out 'You missed dinner with mother.' Our depressed person sighs, and closes their eyes for a split second. Then they're opening the mail – the telephone bill is overdue. The next shot, the telephone is ringing and ringing, but our character can't answer it. As these scenes progress, the bedroom gets darker and darker, the music is more hurried and eerie, and you can hear snippets of voices. 'Never comes out anymore', 'The house is growing weeds', 'You are now three months past due', 'Your electricity is being cut off', 'The children are neglected' until finally everything goes silent. Then, a light comes into the room and out of that light, a hand reaches out. Our person looks at it for a moment, uncertain, and then shyly reaches out for it. Then we go back to the bedroom, and it is beautifully lit, and our person goes to the bed side, takes a pill and washes it down with a glass of water, and gets up to face to world. Then a voice over says 'Imipramine – getting you back to yourself.'" The three executives looked back and forth among themselves.

"That seems very dark." John, the younger man, finally said.

"And that is what will capture people's attention." Peggy replied. "Most ads focus on making you laugh and feel good. This one jumps in with a dark angle, and non-depressed people will want to watch the story we are telling. Depressed people will start watching and say 'This is my life. How does this end?' Both are valuable. I think we've all had loved ones who have been depressed, or had trouble coping with life. We can tell them 'Hey, I saw this ad the other day for this product that I think might help you.' We are telling a story of hope and redemption."

"How much does it cost to produce?" Henry chimed in.

"I work for peanuts." Stan replied, and everyone in the room chuckled.

"It seems very impersonal to do an animated commercial." Lloyd stated.

"I think that is the beauty of the ad." Peggy responded. "Depressed people are detached from reality – this is what they see. By doing an animated spot, we manage to tap into what depressed people experience, and the viewer gets to enter their world. Also, no one wants to see their furniture and their living space through that lens. We get to create a world which has no physical basis, but tells a story which everyone knows." Peggy saw appreciative glances exchanged between the three executives, and felt her heart soar.

"What would the media strategy be?"

* * *

"Peggy!" Stan wrapped her up in a bear hug and swung her around. Peggy giggled, feeling a thousand times lighter than she had previously. When he put her back down, Pete gave her a friendly hand on the shoulder.

"Well done. You got us their business."

"Not officially." Peggy replied.

"Please Peggy. 'The best work we've seen so far'? 'A direction we never saw, but that is incredibly intriguing'? You had them eating out of your hand." Harry added. "This is celebration worthy."

It turns out that what the boys had in mind as a celebration was not the same as Peggy's. They wound up crowding into her hotel room to watch a Red Sox game and order room service while drinking copious amounts of beer. After the game, Harry looked around and nonchalantly asked "Strip club?"

"In Ohio?" Pete asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Hell yeah!" Stan roared, crushing an empty beer can in his right hand. "It's always the quiet mid-western girls that'll surprise you." Pete shrugged.

"Well, with such a glowing endorsement, how can I say no?"

"Don? Peggy? It is your night, you know." Harry offered, stretching out his hand. Peggy smiled and shook her head.

"I think I can live without seeing Ohio's finest. Go on ahead."

"OK. Don?" Harry asked. He also shook his head.

"I should catch up on some work I brought with me."

"Fine." Harry said, and turned to Pete and Stan. "Gentlemen, the night is ours." As the three men marched out the door, Stan called back.

"Don't worry chief, I'll pick you up a pair of nipple tassells." Don raised his eyebrows as the door shut behind them. Peggy shook her head and waved him off.

"No, it's not like that at all. He just enjoys being obnoxious." She got up from the foot of the bed and grabbed another beer from the ice bucket. She turned to glance at Don. "What did you bring to work on." This time, Don shook his head.

"I didn't bring anything. I just couldn't stomach the thought of spending more time with my employees than I have to. Especially those ones."

"Oh." Peggy took a swallow from her can, and a puff of her cigarette, looking unsure of herself. Don shook his head.

"You've always been more than an employee." He said softly. She nodded.

"Good." Peggy mumbled. "Because this is my hotel room, and I can't really leave it." Don smiled and patted the space next to him. When Peggy came over, he slung an arm around her in a half hug, and partially pressed his forehead to hers.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" He spoke low and quiet, and Peggy found her heart pounding. "I know it wasn't an easy pitch for you, but I knew that you would want to be a part of it." Peggy held her drink in her hand, looking down as Don fixed his gaze on her. She could smell his cologne again, which seemed to mix irresistibly with the scent of beer on his breath and the faint musk the day had given him. He finally let her go, and Peggy felt overwhelmed with her success, with her past, with the intimacy she had experienced from Don, and suddenly she started talking and like a waterfall the words poured out and they wouldn't stop.

"The ad was based on you. I mean, you probably knew that, the symbolism was so heavy handed. But honestly, I felt like I was going to die in that hospital. And I didn't care. I kept hoping that the next time I closed my eyes to sleep, they wouldn't open. I didn't have a baby, I didn't have a husband, I didn't think I'd have a job even if I did make it out. No one visited me besides my mother and my sister. And then you came. And for a while I wasn't even sure if you truly had, and I never really understood why you cared, but you did, and it kept me going. I thought of how disappointed you would be in me if I just died in St. Mary's, and I wanted to prove to you that I was worth the time and effort you had put into me. And I made it. And I'm not sure if I would have, if not for you." She sniffed a little and took a drink of her scotch. "I'd probably be in that same hospital bed right now, having my mother and sister visit me on weekends, watching me fade into nothingness."

Don found himself without words. His heart broke for her because he knew the well of loneliness that they both had drawn from, and he ached with the emptiness they had both experienced. But there were no words he could string together to say this, and so they died in his throat and he simply grasped her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Peggy..." he tried. "Did the father not come and see you?" Peggy shook her head.

"No. I never told him until after I had come back to work." Don's eyes widened.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Peggy sniffled and let out a giddy laugh, born of emotional exhaustion.

"It's funny. When I finally did tell him, he said 'Why are you telling me this?'" Peggy sniffled again, and Don scooped her into a hug, cradling her head into his chest.

"Who was the father?" He murmured.

"Don..." she sniffled. "I can't tell you."

"Peggy." His voice became firm. Slowly and deliberately he asked "Who. Was. The. Father."

"Don, I really can't tell you." She sniffed, getting up to find a tissue box.

"Do I know him?" He asked. When Peggy didn't respond, his eyes went round.

"Is it someone we worked with?"

"Don, please stop."

"Someone we still work with?"

"Why are you continuing to ask me after I said stop?" Peggy demanded, tissue box in one hand.

"Peggy." He replied, raising his voice. Quietly he asked "Was it Duck?"

"Jesus Don, he doesn't even work with us anymore. He wasn't even working with us when I got pregnant."

"Harry? Ken? Roger? Pete?" Her expression became pained on the last syllable, and Don took a sharp breath. "Pete Campbell."

"Don, I..." Peggy didn't know what to say. Defend herself? Defend Pete? Tell Don Pete was a scumbag and part of her had always been glad she gave up the child so that she didn't have to be with him?

"Peggy. Sit down." He said quietly, once again patting the seat next to him. She complied, and once again he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She started weeping into his white shirt, and he calmly stroked her back and shushed her. After a few minutes, she stopped sobbing, and sat up straight and grabbed her tissues again. She blew her nose and tossed the tissue in the waste basket, and was left with a terrible sense of vulnerability.

"Don..." she croaked out. They held eye contact, hers watery and confused, his steady and comforting. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, hard. He responded, wrapping his strong arms around her and deepening their kiss. She bowled him over, furiously ripping at the buttons on his shirt, and the buckle on his pants, until he was naked and her shirt was off. She tried to slip herself on him right then, but Don stopped her, giving her a wary look.

"No." He simply said, and before she knew it she was pinned under her creative director as he finished taking off the rest of her garments. In contrast to her earlier pace, he took his time. He kissed a trail from her bra to her panties, and then carefully took them off and kissed her thighs, avoiding her wetness. Peggy squirmed and she tried to trick him into licking her by flicking her hips, but he simply looked up and gave a warning stare, and she gave up on getting her satisfaction on her timetable.

When he did finally thrust into her, there was a difference from their previous encounter. The eye contact before had been dominating and challenging, now he looked like he was an anxious little boy, trying to make sure she was enjoying herself. His pace was slow and methodical, like he was trying to make the moment last for as long as he could, and he carefully dragged his cock through her, touching every tissue and sensitive spot she had. She groaned in a deep satisfaction, and he leaned down and kissed her deeply as he continued his slow march. He ended the kiss and looked up at her, vulnerable in his passion. Peggy found herself softly staring back, and tenderly she tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and trailed her fingers gently down the side of his face. He came with a roar.

Don had blacked out for a moment, and when he could see again, he was realized he was panting, Peggy stroking his right bicep as he came back. With a groan he pushed himself to the left of the bed and put an arm under her shoulders, staring at the ceiling. And for once, he felt content. Not in the usual sense of having pushed away his pain for the night, only to have it rediscovered in the morning after his hang over wore off and she had left. This was something different. A meditative, deep sense of fulfilment, like the well of misery he had drawn from was inexplicably empty. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He just knew he needed to have it again. Over and over.

"Cigarette?" Peggy offered. Don looked at her, her eyes soft in the glow of the hotel lights, and nodded. He picked one out of the pack, and she handed him a lighter.

In the silence, Peggy wasn't sure what to do. His nonchalance brought back the memory of their first time together, and she knew that their time was going to be over shortly. The young copywriter had thought endlessly about their night together in his office, and vowed that she was not going to do it again. She would _not _become another notch on Don's bedpost, just to be shoved out of his life when it wasn't convenient anymore. She felt a sense of sadness as she took a drag, and she wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want him to leave, or if she was sad that here she was again, sleeping with her boss for a second time.

"The boys might come back." She intonated after fa few minutes.

"They're at the strippers." Don responded. "I will be surprised if they're back before two." Peggy stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table, and moved to get up.

"Don't." He commanded. "Stay here."

"Don, we can't be found like this." She protested. He looked up.

"We won't be. Turn on the TV. We'll watch a movie." She shook her head.

"I don't feel comfortable staying naked in bed together. It isn't a good idea."

"But I want you to."

"You can't order me around like I'm still your secretary. It's an unnecessary risk. And while no one will talk to you about it, everyone will look at me at the office." Don looked to the foot of the bed, searching for a strategy.

"What if we did it in a way that people wouldn't have to talk behind our backs?" Peggy frowned, trying to figure out the subtext between his words.

"I don't get it."

"Why don't we just tell people that we are together?" He asked. Peggy snorted.

"Tell people that every once in a while we fuck once in a while, but it's OK, don't worry about it?" Don shook his head.

"Not like that. But that we go out after work together, go home together, come into the office together."

"Like we're dating?" Peggy asked confusedly. He shrugged.

"Sure. We could call it that."

"But we don't do those things together."

"We could." Don looked at her, and Peggy searched his eyes, trying to figure out what product his pitch was trying to sell.

"What do you want from me, Don?" His soft eyes looked her form up and down.

"I like this. I want this. I want you." Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a deep twinge in her heart and her thoughts raced. She sat up in the bed, feeling the wooden frame cool her back.

"We can't." She said flatly.

"Why not?"

"Because no one will take me seriously if I suddenly become your girlfriend. I don't want to be your next Megan, making cute pitches for Cool-Whip and walking into the office hand-in-hand. I want my own career, not to be in your shadow."

"Peggy, your work speaks for itself. No one is going to start doubting you because I buy you dinner." He said calmly. For a moment, Peggy wanted to believe it. She wanted to see herself and Don discussing pitches over a romantic dinner, giggling about office gossip in the afterglow of making love, watching movies together and debating about stupid things that didn't really matter. There was a second where she bought in, wholeheartedly, and she felt her tension melt away and a whole new world open up for her. Then, it was gone, and she was still in the hotel room.

"No. I can't." She got out of the bed and started putting on her clothes.


	6. Canadian Club and African Lions

As Don boarded the plane the next afternoon, he looked at Pete carefully. He expected to feel anger towards the man, and he had spent the previous night imagining pulling him aside and giving him some sort of vaguely disguised reprimand. But upon seeing him, Don could only feel sorrow for him. His child living God-knows-where, being divorced from his wife, and having to see the mother of his orphan every damned day at work. Don had managed to clear out the scraps of his life from the workplace, and Pete had to face it no matter where he was.

Peggy had been avoiding him all morning. Neither had addressed each other directly, and for once Don hadn't felt good about making her uncomfortable. He felt like a child, looking at the candy that was perched on the counter top that he couldn't reach. Like Dick Whitman, looking longingly at the 30 year old scotch high on the bar shelving that he was too poor to afford. It didn't seem fair that now he had all the respect and wealth he had dreamed about, and yet happiness was still on that shelf.

He was unusually quiet on the plane ride home. Every once in a while, Peggy's laughter broke his thoughts, and they always came back to 'What does she _want_?' Everyone wanted something. He wanted her, but how could he repackage himself to make her want _him_? And, with a sharp stab that he felt in his gut, he knew that he couldn't rebrand himself with her. She knew him, the true blackened corners of Don Draper, with all of his niceties and shadows. She understood him better than any woman ever had. And she didn't want him.

* * *

"Mr. Chaough here to see you." Peggy sighed and pushed her Hugo Boss taglines across her desk. She took the bottle of Canadian Club out of her drawer and sloppily poured some into a tumbler.

"Shit." She muttered, wiping her hand on her dress and took around for something to clean her glass off with.

"Ms. Olson?" She grabbed a few tissues and quickly dried her tumbler and threw the tissues in the garbage. She sat back in her chair and held her drink in her hand.

"Send him in." She called out. A moment later, Ted burst through the door with a large smile on his face.

"Congratulations! The entire office is talking about our first drug company!" Peggy couldn't help but smile back at his earnestness.

"Thanks Ted." After a moment she gestured towards the other chair and said "Have a seat." He sat down and continued beaming at her.

"30 and you already have your own drug company. I am amazed and jealous at the same time."

"Yeah, well, we'll see how to turns out." She said, smiling to her whiskey.

"Don't sell yourself short, Peggy. I am sure there were a bunch of different agencies, with men a hundred years older than you with decades more experience, pitching as well, but you blew them out of the water. By the time you're my age, all of the ad agencies on the East Coast will be owned by Olson Incorporated." Peggy laughed, and for the first time in a while, felt her mirth reach her eyes.

"Too bad you won't be alive to see it by then." She replied, taking a drink. Ted sucked his in lips and squinted his eyes, putting on the warble of an elderly man.

"By golly young lady, I won't be able to die until I see it happen!" Peggy laughed again, and sat her drink on her desk.

"Casting is going to be a pain though. Just a bunch of one-liners spoken by a ton of different voices. I mean, the plus side is that either the actor does the line right, or they don't. The downside is days of casting, just for those perfect little lines."

"Peggy, this is a drug company. They have more money to throw at voice actors than we've created taglines." Peggy sighed.

"I know. It's just that creative is overworked as it is, and the casting is going to take a long time." Ted looked at her inquisitively for a second.

"Why not ask for someone that can do a lot of different voices? I mean, there are a lot of talented people in this city. I am sure that someone can be a woman and a child, and maybe you'll need someone different to cast mens' voices, but at least you'll be able to cut down of the amount of people involved." Peggy stared at him for a moment.

"Ted, that is brilliant." He smiled again.

"I have been doing this for a while. In fact, I am sure that I can dig up some names of people who have done similar work for CGC before." She nodded.

"That would be great. It has to be done soon though. They've pulled Stan off of all the other accounts so that he can get the animation done by next Wednesday. Ciba is flying in from Ohio to view it." Ted shook his head.

"9 days is no problem. Consider it done. I am going to go and make some calls right now." He got up from his chair and headed to the door. Peggy smiled and nodded.

"Wait, Ted." He turned around and looked at her. "Do you want to come to the casting auditions? Don hates them, and you really know what you are doing."

"I'd love to. Send out the request, pick a date and time, and I will be there." He gave a smile before he left, and Peggy returned it.

* * *

Don called in sick to work that Monday morning. He wasn't ready to face Peggy, and he suddenly felt sick at the idea of another 12 hours in the office. However, staying in his apartment all day wasn't going to make him feel any better either. So instead, he was here.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Sally asked as she wandered into the secretary's office. Don shot a smile at the dour hag who continued to glare at him, and then faced Sally.

"Did you forget about your dental appointment in New York today?" He asked. Sally shook her head slightly, eyeing him in the same critical way that he would have. "The appointment that is going to take the rest of the day?" He added helpfully. Comprehension dawned, and Sally nodded.

"Of course, I've just been so busy that I'd completely forgotten." The secretary stared over her horn rimmed glasses.

"Mr. Draper, we can recommend a dentist that is much closer to the school." Don faced her again and shook his head, holding out his arms helplessly.

"She's terrified of dentists. Our old family dentist in New York is the only one that has gained her trust." The secretary shot him another dirty glare, and he added "I'll have her back by tonight." He turned back to Sally. "Your ride awaits."

"So you came and busted me out of school just to play hookie with me?" Sally demanded as they drove. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Don took a drag of his cigarette and propped his elbow out of the window.

"The great thing about being an adult is that you get to do what you want. Within reason." Sally's brow furled as she looked at him for a moment.

"Can I have a cigarette?"

"One now, one for the ride home." He replied, and handed her his pack and lighter. She rolled her window down and lit one, taking a drag before coughing lightly. Don smiled.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, what do you want to do?" She pondered.

"You're already wearing shorts. Let's go to the zoo." Don nodded.

"To the zoo it is."

* * *

Peggy left work on time, but the skies were already darkening when she arrived home. She flicked on the lights and went to the fridge, trying to decide what she wanted to eat. Finding only ketchup and a lone uncooked hotdog, she frowned. She was hungry, but didn't feel like going out. At the sound of a friendly meow, she turned to face her orange tabby, who was purring expectantly from the floor at her feet.

"Are you hungry?" She asked. He meowed. "Of course you are. Well, I am too." She reached in her cupboards for a can of wet cat food. "It looks like its chicken dinner tonight. Wanna split a can?" Charlie meowed again, wagging his tail expectantly. "Of course you don't. You just want to share all the mice you kill. Between that and the canned food, you are going to be fat. You'd better watch it. That calico from the 4th floor won't like you if you're tubby." Charlie just stared at her, with his friendly kitty grin. She dumped his food into a dish, and he trailed her out to her couch where she set it down on the seat next to her. He elegantly jumped onto the furniture and ate while Peggy stroked him.

"You're the only man I need." She said softly. Immediately she felt pathetic, and closed her eyes and fell back into her sofa. Don Draper flashed through her mind, and for a moment she was back in that hotel room, flesh pressed against his, the smell of coitus, cigarettes and beer surrounding them.

"_I want this. I want you."_

This time, Peggy cuddled in closer and laid her head on his chest, their hearts beating in sync.

"_I want this too. This is where I am meant to be. Right here, in this hotel room, with you." Don turned onto his side, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers._

"_We're going to stay in this hotel room for the rest of our lives. Stan, Pete and Harry will fly out tomorrow, and we are going to stay in here, naked and making love, until they condemn this hotel. We'll live on champagne, caviar, and love. And you can always have the mints on the pillow."_

"_Don..." He closed the gap and kissed her, and she felt his weight as he climbed on top of her, carefully entering her again."I love you." She said, gazing deep into his eyes._

"_I love you. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouI-"_

Charlie's presence on her lap brought her out of her daydream, and she sighed as as continued stroking his glossy coat. Suddenly she felt incredibly lonely, in a way she hadn't known that she was lonely before. She had left part of herself in that hotel room, and there was still a part of her roaming around in places she would never know, and she wondered how many more pieces she could lose before Peggy Olson was just a faint memory in the history of McCann-Erickson.

* * *

"Mandy says her spirit animal is the tiger." Sally said absentmindedly, licking her chocolate chip mint ice cream.

"Why does she think that? Why the hell does she think she has a spirit animal?" He asked, before taking a bite into his vanilla scoop. In front of them a lion paced behind a glass enclosure. Sally shrugged.

"I don't know. She met some Indian boy who she is madly in love with. Now she's burning some weird weed in the room all the time, saying something about spirits or ancestors cleansing it or something."

"Don't inhale when she does that, you could get in trouble." He advised. Sally smirked and shook her head.

"It isn't grass. It's some sort of other green thing. Besides, she already got in trouble. It doesn't mean she stopped doing it. The entire room smells like old people now." Don smirked.

"How is your mother?" Sally rolled her eyes.

"You know Betty. She's like she usually is."

"Don't be hard on her." Don reprimanded. "She just wants you to be happy."

"She has a funny way of showing it."

"She doesn't coddle you. One day you'll appreciate it." Sally licked around her cone, preventing small drips of ice cream from ruining her school uniform.

"What was your mother like?" She asked. Don chewed slowly on his last bit of cone.

"I never knew her. She died when she gave birth to me. It was dangerous to give birth back then." Sally fixed a gentle gaze on him.

"And your father never remarried?"

"The woman who raised me was harsh. She didn't like me very much. She always wanted to have her own child, but she got me instead." He turned his gaze away from the lion and faced his daughter with a pair of expressionless sunglasses. "That's how I know your mother loves you." Sally turned away and stared at the lioness sunbathing in the back of the enclosure.

"I'm going to join the Model UN." She declared. Don smiled.

"Do you know what nation you'll be presenting?" She shook her head.

"I think I'd like to present Sweden. Or one of those Nordic countries. My friends said that I look like I should."

"Try for a nation with a veto." He suggested.

"That'll look good when applying for colleges. Unless I wind up being Russia. Or China. Or France." She turned up her nose. Don checked his watch.

"It's time to grab you some dinner, and then we'll drive back to school."

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**_ Sorry for the lack of Don/Peggy interaction, but it is going to pick up in the next chapter, in an explosive way! Thank you for your views and reviews, they mean the world to me!_


	7. Voice Overs and Drama Queens

**_Author's Note: _**_OK, this chapter has a lot of naughty stuff going on! Make sure you have the approval of a responsible adult before reading any further ahead! I think this is my favourite chapter that I've written for this story thus far. Thank you everyone for your reviews, constructive criticism and general awesomeness! Also, if anyone out there has a fan fic idea they've been thinking of, but you're too shy to post it, please do! I've been easing my sorrow through reading and writing, and I need some more reading material!_

* * *

"You've been working entirely took much." Roger told him that Friday afternoon as he laid out on the couch in Don's office. He waved around his glass of bourbon as he spoke. "I mean, I don't think I've seen you drink more than three times this week. Where's the fun in that?" Don smirked as he arranged some storyboards on his desk.

"Every once in a while, a man has to pull up his own socks, Roger." The silver haired man tutted.

"My nanny pulled up my socks until I was drafted into the army. I mean, as I got older, it was in gratitude for incredible nights she couldn't forget. But really, leave the sock pulling to wives and the rest of the jackasses here. We're partners. We don't need to prove ourselves to anyone. Those days are done." Don raised an eyebrow as he looked at his friend.

"Did you ever have those days?"

"No." He replied cheerfully, and planted his feet firmly on the floor as he sat up. "You, me, the Empress, tonight. I won't take no for an answer." Don sighed and held out his hands.

"Roger, I-"

"I don't need to prove to you that I am great company, and I don't need to mention the certain..." he looked at the ceiling as he tried to find the words. "...je ne sais quoi of the atmosphere here."

"Well, when a man talks French to me, I'm all ears." Don smiled.

"Great. Eight o'clock. That's when the pretty ones start getting drunk. Or pretend to, anyway." He got up and saw himself out the door. Don followed, with the intention of shutting it after him, when he heard Peggy's familiar laugh coming down the hallway.

"And then when she tried to do the bill collector's voice!" She giggled.

"I felt like Kermit the Frog had become an executioner!" A man replied, and both let up a howl of laughter. Don frowned and poked his head out of his doorway, seeing Peggy and Ted come down the hall. He was guiding her with a hand on the small of her back as they both dissolved into small giggles. He cleared his throat.

"Hello." He said, staring expectantly.

"Hey Don!" Ted said excitedly, his eyes gleaming in the same way they had when working on the St. Joseph's commercial. "We have some good news!" Don uncomfortably put his hand in his pocket, leaning to one side slightly.

"Well, on a Friday afternoon, I am all ears."

"We did the casting for the Ciba commercial!"

"And we only had to find two voice actors!" Peggy said excitedly, her eyes mirroring Ted's. Don stared.

"Why were you casting with Peggy? This is my account." Don could feel Ted's excitement fall as he looked at the creative director with uncertainty.

"I asked him to." Peggy replied, oblivious to Don's mood. "He had this great idea to find people that could really throw their voices and create completely different characters. He found us the perfect guy too, we just had to find an equally talented woman. And we did!"

"I should have been there." Don stated. "This account is on _my_ shoulders. If anything goes wrong, they're not going to blame _you,_ Ted." Both Peggy and Ted looked apprehensively at Don, and then shot a careful look at each other. Don's emerald eyes flashed angrily.

"I'm sorry Don." He finally spoke. "I shouldn't have done any work on your accounts. You're right. I apologise." Don nodded, and Ted turned to go to his office. Peggy started to follow, but Don snapped his fingers and called Peggy into his own.

"Shut the door." He said sternly, and she did, still looking bewildered. Don sat perched on the edge of his desk, glowering at his copywriter. "Why did you bring Ted in on this?"

"I told you." She replied earnestly. "He had a great idea, and I know how much you hate casting, and I thought it would save you some hassle and-"

"That isn't your decision to make." He said loudly, and the brunette woman looked shocked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"And why Ted, of all people? I didn't think you two were getting along." Peggy frowned.

"Is that what this is about?" She asked quietly. Don glared.

"What this is about is that skirt. It's too short to wear at the office and expect to be taken seriously. You look like some secretary trying to seduce her middle-aged, balding boss." Peggy glared, seething with a barely controlled rage. She paused for a moment, listening to the mindless chatter around the office, before stepping nose-to-chin with him and continuing in a controlled whisper.

"Fuck you Don. That is _exactly_ what this is about. There is one woman that won't just run along with you and do whatever the hell you want, and you can't take it, and you can't stand _anyone else_ being happy while you're not. So you have to ruin and belittle anyone who seems to be a _tiny, tiny_ bit less cynical and hateful than you are. So you know what Don? Here I am. The slutty secretary, trying to seduce her balding, middle-aged boss." She put on a low moan and fluttered her eyes upwards. "Oh take me, right here and now! I don't care who knows, I just want you to fuck me like you've fucked over everything else in your life. Oh pppllleeeaaasseee, screw me right on the memo about the office supplies." Don's eyes narrowed and he roughly grabbed Peggy by the shoulders and threw her on his couch. Leaning on her elbows, her eyes were defiant as he undid his belt and unzipped his fly. He pushed her down the rest of the way as he reached under her skirt, roughly yanking down her tights and underwear. He found her already wet as he shoved two fingers in her folds, and without ceremony he thrust himself in to the hilt, and felt satisfied when he saw she was momentarily breathless and wide-eyed.

"Oooo..." she started to moan, but Don shoved his hand to her mouth and looked deeply into her eyes as he started thrusting.

"Quiet!" he whispered commandingly, and Peggy's eyes narrowed as she bit the meaty part of him palm, and brought her hands underneath his shirt. Don arched his back as he felt her nails dig cruel welts down his back, and he took his hand off of her mouth to steady himself as he started slamming into her as hard as he could. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and soon they were both panting as quietly as they could. Don bit at the junction of her neck and shoulder with intent, and Peggy took a sharp intake of breath.

"Don't scream." He commanded. "Secretaries are supposed. to. be. Discrete." He thrust hard and held himself there for a second after each word, and Peggy bit the flesh of her wrist to keep from crying out. Don quickly took one wrist in each hand and pinned them above her head, staring intensely into her blue eyes.

"Look at me." He hissed, and Peggy did, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and Don came with a shudder. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily into her ear and inhaling her perfume.

"Oh God." Peggy moaned softly, and Don found himself immobile as he felt the last few contractions rush out of him. For ten seconds, he didn't get up. He felt the warmth of their bodies, the mixture of sweat, cologne and perfume that covered them, and once again felt content as his rage subsided and he was taken over by a blissful calm.

When his softening cock slipped out of her, he finally willed himself to get up, and started to fix his pants and dress shirt. Peggy stared, suddenly bewildered at their encounter, and reached her fingers to trace the bite mark on her neck. She glared at him, and when she finally caught Don's eye, he just shrugged unapologetically. She stood up and shimmied herself into her underwear and tights, and strode past Don to grab a tissue from his desk. She quickly tucked it back into her underwear, and with an unceremonious wipe, collected his remnants from her body and tossed it into the trash, sneering at her boss.

"Your hair is a mess." He offered.

"Your life is a mess!" She shouted, and opened his door only to slam it on her way out.

"Mr. Draper, is everything alright?" Don sighed, and went to his desk.

"Everything is fine, Meredith."

* * *

Peggy slammed the door to her office and furiously rummaged through her desk drawer to find her compact mirror. She swore as she traced the redness around the bite mark that Don had given her. It was going to take days, maybe even weeks, to heal.

She threw her compact back in the drawer and opened the one below it. Thank God. Her scarf was still there. The dark neon blue clashed with her brown patterned top, which really wasn't made to be accented by a scarf in the first place, but it would do. She quickly tied it around her neck, making it as wide as possible to cover the marks of Don's fat, scathing maw. She then sat at her desk and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She wasn't sure what had happened, but it was never happening again. Ever. No matter how great the sex had been, it wasn't worth Don's paternalistic bullshit.

'It's your night, it's your life.' The thought came to her unbidden, and she immediately scowled at herself. Now she was using her taglines as self-affirming messages. She really _was_ becoming one of those selfish, baron matrons. Jesus.

She stood up and strode out of her office, trying to appear collected and confidant as she walked to Stan's office. She knocked one before opening his door and saw him hunched over his drawing desk. He turned to her and nodded.

"Hey chief. How did casting go?" Peggy nodded and took a deep inhale and she closed the door behind her.

"Good, good. We found a couple of good people, so we're going to get them in on the weekend to record the voice overs. How is the art coming along?" Stan looked tired as he took a deep drag and stubbed out his cigarette.

"Really good, actually. I'm just filling everything in, so if I work through Saturday and Sunday it should be ready for you Monday morning." Peggy gave him a sad look as she saw down on his couch.

"You look like you haven't slept in days." She responded. Stan shrugged.

"Actually, I like it. It's nice not to be pulled in fourty different directions at once. I've been able to give this baby my full love and attention." He looked at her for a second, puzzled. "You weren't wearing a scarf this morning. I saw you walking in with Ted." Peggy blushed and looked down.

"It is cold in my-"

"In the office, Peggy?" Stan's eyes were wide, and a smile of appreciation played around his lips. "And here we thought you were all business. Apparently our copy chief mixes some pleasure in with it." He checked his watch. "And all before noon!" Her face turned beet red as the art director continued. "So, whose office? Yours or Ted's?"

"It's not what you're thinking, Stan."

"Fuck, did you guys do it in someone else's office? God knows Roger isn't in yet. He has the perfect space for an office quickie." Peggy's hand went up to her neck as he inspected it critically. "I wouldn't have pegged Ted as a biter. I guess the man has more spirit in him than I'd imagined."

"It was cold in my office." She said stoutly as she rose, fists clenched. Peggy heard Stan chuckle lightly as she stiffly marched out the door. She went back to her office and grabbed her jacket and purse, and rushed out just as quickly as she could.

"Peggy." She heard Joan call after her, and Peggy stopped to glare at her.

"What?" She snapped. Joan raised an eyebrow in warning.

"Dawn is getting married and we're taking up a collection to get her a wedding gift."

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going home." Joan eyed the scarf around her neck, and nodded with a secretive smile.

"Did you let your secretary know?" She asked.

"You tell her." And Peggy marched towards the front doors of SC&amp;P, determined not to let anything stop her until the bruise was gone, her ego was back in place, and she stopped thinking about Don Draper.

* * *

"Lee Garner Jr and I banged a hooker together once." Roger said at the bar, waving around his cigarette and taking sips of his rye. Don raised an eyebrow as his hair fell askew.

"Really?"

"No." Roger shook his head. "It happened a lot, actually. He was weird though. He always took her ass, and had me up front. It was the only way he wanted it."

"Is that weird?" Don asked.

"Incredibly. When engaging in that sort of... situation, one guy takes the mouth and the other one takes the pussy. It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"I didn't realize there was such a strict code of conduct."

"It's just weird any other way. You can feel the other guy's cock right through the woman. I never finished. God, the things I did to keep that account." He moaned, chucking back the last of his glass. "Plus, do you know how much a hooker who will do anal costs? Lane had to make a new line in the budget for it!" Don chuckled into his glass as Roger smoked, a disapproving, far away look in his eyes. "I don't get the anal thing. It's half way to being gay. Plus, the damn thing doesn't even lubricate itself! You've got to apply some lubricant, and it's just a _lot_ of effort to make the girl feel comfortable. Or at least comfortable enough to not get blacklisted."

"I've never tried it." Don admitted. Roger waved him off.

"You're not missing anything. If God wanted us to stick it up a woman's ass, he wouldn't have filled them with so much other shit to put up with. Another for both of us." He motioned to the bartender. Don giggled as the alcohol made it's way to his head, and he found himself relaxed for the first time since the hotel room in Ohio.

"What about you? What's new in the love life of the incorrig... incorrigibib... any new women?" Roger slurred. Don was at that special place of drunkenness where he became a horrible liar, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to have a heart-to-heart with his friend, so he just shrugged. Roger seemed to sense this, and naturally pushed harder. "C'mon! What are you keeping from me? You can tell your old pal Roger." Don smiled and sighed.

"I don't... it's nothing." Roger looked at the bar peanuts and pushed a couple into his mouth. He immediately scrunched up his face and yelled at the bartender again.

"Hey, get us some peanuts over here that _don't_ taste like they're been marinating in JFK's grave." He then turned back to Don. "Jesus Christ. So, anyway, you have to tell me all about the pretty young twenty something you've been fucking, because it's been a bit of a dry spell for me, and I'm going to live vicarishly through you."

"It's vicariously."

"Don't change the subject!" Don took another drink, and thought for a second.

"What do you do..." he said lowly. "...when a woman doesn't want to be with you?"

"Get a hooker. They're cheaper in the long run and they never outstay their welcome." Don sighed.

"But what about when you have this deep, deep feeling for her, and she just... doesn't want you? And you think about her all the time, and you watch her every step and breath and wait for the moment that she'll look at you, and she never does?" Roger looked surprised for a second, and then furrowed his brow.

"Buy her things. Expensive things. At least then she owes you a romp in the sack or two. Besides, I've never seen a woman refuse you, Don. So if one finally has, maybe there is a good reason for it." Don looked dejectedly into his drink. "Jesus, this one really has you. Who is it? Do I get to meet her?"

"You know her." He replied. Roger squinted his eyes.

"Damn. Someone at the office?" Don nodded. "I can't think of any woman there you couldn't get. Who is it?" Don gave a heavy sigh.

"Peggy." Roger's jaw hung slack for a moment as he gave his friend a shocked stare.

"_Peggy?_" He asked incredulously. "_She_ won't sleep with _you_?" Don shrugged. Roger took a long puff of his cigarette. "Jesus. I mean, she's cute, but not quite the calibre of women you usually go after. I just can't..." his thoughts trailed off. "Jesus Don. Are we getting old?"

"I guess so." He replied.

"Huh." Roger murmured. He shook his head. "Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think she's already having a fling with someone at the office. Joan told me that she left the office before lunch, wearing a scarf that she didn't wear coming in." He took a drink and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing, staring at the roof incredibly. "Jesus. Peggy Olson, having a tryst with one man at the office and refusing the world-renown Don Draper. I wouldn't believe it if Armageddon came and she was the last woman on earth." Don frowned.

"That's kind of... cruel." He stated. Roger nodded.

"You're right. I'd fuck her if it was Armageddon. Or if was only her and Caroline."


	8. Everybody Wants Peggy

**_Author's Note: _**_Just so it isn't too confusing, I'm starting off with the same day that the last chapter was in, except with Peggy's actions of the rest of her day._

* * *

Peggy wasn't sure exactly what to do with herself after she left the office. She didn't want to go back to her apartment. The tenants seemed to be able to smell when she was in, and it was always an endless barrage of complaints and general miserliness. So she resolved to pick up a book and head to a diner for lunch.

"Peggy?" She heard a voice ask as she reviewed the back of _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_. Looking up, she almost dropped the book in surprise.

"Joyce!" She grinned and wrapped the dark-haired woman in an embrace. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." Joyce replied, cocking her head to the side. "We work in the same building and you never come to visit me."

"Yeah." Peggy agreed. "It's just after everything with Abe, I wasn't sure if we could still hang out." Joyce shook her head and waved Peggy off.

"Abe takes himself too seriously. Take it as a compliment that he broke up with you." Peggy snorted.

"I should have beaten him to the punch. I can't believe that _he_ broke up with _me_."

"Such is life." Joyce smiled. "Hey, wanna come out with us tonight? We're going to a block party in Chinatown. You look like a woman who works far too much." Peggy pursed her lips, looking hesitant. "Peggy." Joyce whined. "When was the last time you did something other than go to work and come home? Besides, tomorrow is Saturday."

"Hey, I went to buy tampons a month ago!" She protested. Joyce smirked.

"Come on. I won't keep you out too late. Just come, have a couple of drinks, and unwind a little. I will make sure you are home before 11, _and _I will ensure you don't wind up going home with Abe number two."

"Well, alright."

"Great." Joyce looked down at the book in her hand. "That is a fantastic read. Don't leave this store without it."

* * *

"Shit, does anyone here speak English?" Peggy asked, a little too loudly, as she started on her fifth drink. Joyce smirked as they drew irate glances from the numerous Chinese speakers in the room.

"Maybe you should pick up some Mandarin." She suggested. "Ni hao ma?"

"General Tso's chicken." Peggy replied.

"You become more charming with every passing second. No wonder Abe broke up with you." Joyce joked. "Have you ever had bird's feet?"

"What?" Peggy stared, aghast. "What do you even _eat_ on the feet? It's... feet. Little, tough, birdy feet. It sounds like something I should feed my cat."

"You own a cat now?" Joyce raised an eyebrow, smiling. "I see that you have fully embraced the life of a perpetually single woman."

"There's nothing but married men and jackasses in the city, and most often those two categories overlap. Not that you would know." Joyce shook her head.

"Jackass isn't a male-dominant trait, I assure you. Although all the jackass married men make for many, _many_ unsatisfied housewives." She grinned. Peggy laughed.

"You're horrible. Taking advantage of all those lonely, bored women."

"Oh, they're not lonely or bored after they've been with me." Joyce smiled, but somehow it was different this time. Peggy's sluggish brain tried to read between the lines of her lips, but couldn't quite make out the subtext. So instead, she shotgunned the rest of her drink. Looking down at the empty glass in her hand, she frowned.

"Shit. I think I need to reapply my lipstick." She said sadly, looking at the peach stain around the rim.

"Let me see." Joyce said softly, and put her hand under Peggy's chin, tilting her head up. Peggy blinked, and then felt her friend's soft, full lips on hers. The copywriter froze, uncertain of what to do. Joyce ended the kiss, but stayed close enough that Peggy could still smell her perfume.

"What was that?" She asked stupidly.

"I think I was trying to get you a little unwound." Peggy's mouth gaped, unsure of what to do.

"I don't think-"

"Shh." Joyce shushed her and came in closer, pinning her body against the wall. Peggy could feel her lithe frame pressed against hers, and it felt strange to be so intimate with another woman. "Let yourself go for a moment." Joyce kissed her again, and after a moment of hesitation, Peggy kissed back, trying to will herself into enjoying the moment. As the kiss deepened, and Joyce's hands grabbed her hips, she tried to focus on the feeling of another body so close to hers, tried to feel the arousal that came so easily when she was with men. But her mind was blank, and all she could think about was all that was wrong. Joyce's scent was wrong, her body was too small, and she was soft where a lover should be hard.

"I can't." Peggy broke the kiss and gently pushed herself away, gazing at the floor. "This is wrong. Wrong for me." Joyce's face turned blank and she nodded, taking a step away from Peggy. She took her cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one.

"You can't blame a woman for trying, Peggy."

"I know." Peggy sighed. "I'm pretty irresistible." She watched Joyce smoke for a moment, and immediately felt worse than when she had come. Her love life had come down to a horny lesbian she _didn't _want, and a jealous boss that she _shouldn't_ want. For a brief moment, she regretted stabbing Abe.

* * *

"Good morning!" Peggy's head shot up as she came out of her deep reverie. Roger Sterling approached the coffee maker, trailing his hand along the countertop as he gave an award winning smile to the copywriter. Peggy looked surprised.

"Roger, it's 9. Its' Wednesday. What are you doing here so early?"

"Someone got shot outside of my apartment this morning. The sirens disturbed me, and then the police came knocking door-to-door for statements, so I figured I needed to get out of there before I had to make small talk with one of New York's finest." Peggy nodded.

"I'm sorry, was it someone you knew?"

"Who cares?" Roger asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I spent $400 on a new mattress so I could sleep like a baby, and some jackass has to go and get shot up outside of _my_ building. Talk about injustice." Peggy stared. "Anyway, sweetheart, I heard that Ciba is coming in today to look at the cartoon you have. Excited?"

"I... guess?"

"Well, with enthusiasm like that I'm sure they'll be begging for more." He raised the mug to cheer her, and then took a sip. "Anyway, after you nail the presentation, we should go out and celebrate. How about you, me and your favourite restaurant?" Peggy blinked.

"What?"

"Just you and me, sweetheart, and a night of the finest the city has to offer." He replied smoothly. Peggy stared at him some more, and then frowned angrily.

"No." And then she took off with her cup, blowing past Roger in a huff. He looked at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his coffee radiate through his hand.

"Jesus Christ, I am getting old." He reflected as took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. But then again, Peggy was a 30-something year old spinster. She probably wasn't used to a man of his, or Don's, charm. The entire thing was probably very intimidating for her.

Roger strolled back to his office, and swept his gaze across Shirley, who was busily typing his correspondence.

"Shirley." He greeted, and stood at the corner of her desk. "Coming into work and seeing you at this desk is like getting to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow." Shirley stared at him, much like Peggy had done.

"Mr. Sterling, you have a meeting with Ted Chaough at 11am." He nodded slowly.

"Right." As he closed the door to his office, Roger groaned. It was official. He was _old_.

* * *

"Where is he?" Pete muttered, checking his watch. "Ciba will be here any minute." Peggy looked at her watch as well.

"I'll go get him." She said moodily, and quickly crossed the short distance from the meeting room to Don's office.

"Mr. Draper, Ms. Olson here to-" Meredith quickly sputtered as the brunette blew past her.

"Are you coming?" She asked peevishly. Don looked up from his desk.

"Am I invited, or is Ted going to go to this one as well?" Peggy put her hands on her hips.

"I'm already pissed off today, Don. You don't want to make it worse." He sighed and got up to grab his jacket.

"Relax, I'm coming." Peggy turned on her heel and stormed back out, pushing forcefully on the glass doors of the heart of the building.

"He's coming." She said, taking her seat. Don walked in thirty seconds later and eyed the seating arrangement. He crossed the room and sat by Pete, and nodded to Stan. Moments later the receptionist walked in, with John trailing behind her, a large smile on his face.

"Here you go, sir." She replied, and everyone rose to greet the client.

"Thank you honey." He replied as he started a round of enthusiastic hand shaking. "I'm sorry, my father and Henry were called away at the last minute. They're having trouble with one of the other ad firms we've hired. I told them that we should give all of our advertising to you, Peggy. Your work is outstanding." His smile stretched another inch as her looked at her, and Peggy glowed under his praise. "But I assure you, when I give the seal of approval, it is a done deal."

"We're glad to hear that." Don replied, eyeing the younger man with distaste.

"We don't want to take up more of your time than necessary, so let's jump right into it." Pete started cheerfully. "Now, Stan has been working on this non-stop for the last two weeks. He jumped off the plane and went right back to the office to start working on this commercial. It's a work of pride for this agency, and I am sure that you will agree, it is a masterpiece. Stan?" Pete nodded towards the art director, and Stan rose.

"I made the colouring very dramatic because I wanted it to capture people's attention as soon as they started watching it, and to highlight the difference between the world without Imipramine and how the world looks when someone is taking it. I wanted people to feel borderline euphoric just _watching_ the commercial." John smiled.

"That sounds great." Stan then walked across the room and closed the curtains and dimmed the lights.

* * *

"Wow." John nodded when the lights came back on. "That was... incredible. Even better than I had imagined it when you were pitching it to us." Everyone on the team, with the exception of Don, smiled. John turned to Stan. "And you managed to churn this out in under two weeks?"

"It was a great project to work on." He replied. "I'm very happy you decided to go with us."

"As am I." John grinned. He rose from his seat, and the others followed suit, save for Don who still eyed the man with a critical frown. "There isn't a thing I would change about this commercial. You knew what we wanted better than we did. NBC isn't going to know what hit them." He turned to Peggy. "Do you think you could create this kind of magic for another product? Like, say, contraceptive pills?" Peggy nodded, and Pete cut in.

"I don't have to tell you that there are few women in advertising, and none can hold a candle to our Peggy Olson. I bet you have a bunch of 60 year old men over at the other ad agency trying to figure out how to sell women's rights to a bunch of 20 year old girls." John laughed.

"You've got that right. I haven't seen so much white hair since my mother started breeding Persian cats." Once again he turned his thousand watt smile to the copy chief. "You know, I'd love to talk to you about how you come up with such imaginative, touching work. Would you mind joining me for dinner tonight? Apparently I'm dining alone now, and it would be great to have a real New Yorker show me why the city is so renown. Assuming, of course, you don't have other plans." Peggy smiled.

"I'd love to. What kind of food do you like?"

"I'll eat anything, as long as it is good." He replied. "I'll give the office a call once I get back to my hotel room and we can firm everything up."

"That sounds great." They both smiled, and John turned towards the rest of the team.

"Thank you all so much for your time. I'm happy to see this go forward. Let us know when you have the air times and dates." After the final round of hand shaking, John left with a final smile and nod towards Peggy. There was a moment of silence as they watched him walk out of the office.

"Wow." Stan finally said. "We could have shown him a photo of his mother dead in her casket being cannibalized by her cats and that still would have gone well."

"Peggy's genius and your artwork is still what brought us this account." Pete said, grinning towards the young copywriter. "Having an extra hook in it doesn't hurt." Don finally rose and shot a hard glare at Peggy.

"Don't do that again." He said. The jovial atmosphere turned sour.

"Do what?" She asked, looking to Pete and Stan for clues.

"_That_. If we wanted to get his business in _that_ fashion, we would have paid for it." For a moment, everyone was speechless.

"Don." Pete said carefully. "That was uncalled for." Peggy felt angry tears well up in her eyes, and she wordlessly picked up her pad and pen, and scurried off out of the far door.

* * *

"Peggy..." Stan's voice was soft and low as he observed her busying herself over papers, trying not to let herself cry.

"What?" She snapped. Stan shut the door behind him as he entered.

"That was unfair. No one else thinks that about you." She hurriedly wiped at her eyes, not caring that she was smearing her mascara.

"I know." She muttered angrily and unconvincingly. Stan gave her a pitying look and went over to wrap his arms around her. She sniffled into his chest as he held her close.

"He shouldn't have said that. Everyone knows that your work speaks for itself. He's just miserable because he's an old hack who's ego is bigger than whatever talent he once had. He's trying to drag you down with him, but he can't because you're too good." Peggy nodded, her tears spilling out silently onto Stan's shirt. She was hurt, and felt powerless, and it felt good to just have someone hold her. They stood like that for a few minutes before Stan broke the embrace and put both hands on her shoulders, gazing kindly at her. "And even though John obviously wants up your skirt, it is because you are a talented, intelligent, beautiful woman, and no man wants to let one of those slip away."

"I'm just so... tired of this." Peggy sniffled. Stan nodded, and even though Peggy knew he didn't truly understand, she felt comforted.

"Any time you want to break away and start your own agency, I will be right there behind you. And we can take all of Draper's Canadian Club and pour it all over this thousand dollar office furniture and burn this shithole to the ground. I'll light the match."

"Who would be our account man?" She asked. Stan sighed.

"I hate to say it, but Pete's grown on me. Like a fungus, but he has his charm. Maybe we can woo Ken back from Dow Chemical."

"I'd like that." Peggy said softly, smiling. Stan smiled and let go of her shoulders.

"You should take the rest of the day off. It's almost 2 anyway. When Krebler calls, I'll tell the secretaries to forward him to your home phone. And then you will go out, and have a great night, and show all the girls in the office the jewellery he bought you. Make Ted jealous." Peggy gave out a half-hearted laugh.

"I don't know if that is usually what a copywriter gets from dinner."

"Hey, he did ask you to show him New York's best. Tiffany's is right up there, as Sarah keeps reminding me." Peggy laughed, and went to her desk to get her compact and she carefully wiped the black trails of tears away.

"I think I'll go to the movies. Get my mind off of this for a while."

"Good idea."


	9. Irrational

_**Author's Note:**__ Great news! I finally figured out how this story will end! Horray! I'm not sure how many chapters it will wind up having, but I'm thinking at least 20. Thank you for your reviews! And Letostag, you are so right. Don can be a super dick sometimes._

* * *

Don Draper walked into the movie theatre just as the film started, and immediately took a seat near the back. He needed to get out of the office. He had sat at his desk, fuming for half an hour, until Pete had come in and muttered something about papers for Ciba and shot him a dirty look on his way out. Don's feelings had become tinged with a hint of regret, so he had poured half a glass of whiskey and drank it all in one swing before heading out to his salvation. He settled into the seat, slouching as _Airport_ opened.

A few minutes in, he noticed the distinct scent of marijuana, and looked at the kid a couple of rows ahead of him. He shook his head, amused, until he noticed a woman turn her head and motion him to come over. He thought he might be mistaken at first, but as the light blue sky of the screen illuminated the theatre, he saw he was right. It was Peggy.

The kid with the grass hopped over the row and took his place, and offered Peggy a drag. She took a hit and passed it back to him. Don watched her carefully, and felt his eyes narrow and his teeth clench of their own accord. They passed the joint back and forth a few times, occasionally exchanging words, and then he noticed the outline of Peggy's shoulder as she reached her arm out into his seat. He heard the faint sound of a zipper being undone, and then a sigh as the man slouched further in his seat. Peggy's arm remained extended. Suddenly, Don couldn't see the movie screen any more. He was intently focused on the small motions that Peggy made, and his vision was tinted with red.

* * *

Peggy couldn't really remember what went on in the movie when the credits started rolling. However, she felt good. Relaxed. Maybe she'd go out and get a new book to read after the movie. Or go out shopping. She should call Joan. Joan was great at shopping.

She was snapped out of her reverie when she felt a crushing grip on her wrist. Confused, she looked up into the murderous face of Don Draper. His face was red, and on both temples she saw the veins bulging. She felt herself go pale. She had _never_ seen him this angry, and it was frightening.

"Get up." He barked, and the blond sitting next to her looked at both of them, dazed.

"Don, what are-"

"Get up, Peggy." He commanded, and roughly yanked her wrist. She clumsily stumbled over the cup holder as Don kept pulling her, marching down the theatre aisle.

"What is wrong with you?" She cried as she tottled after him. Don hadn't lessened his iron grip, and she was afraid she'd lose her hand if she didn't keep up.

"Don't talk." He dragged her out of the theatre and onto the street, and opened the door of a waiting cab. "Get in." He unceremoniously threw her into the back seat, and immediately sat next to her as she collected her limbs and sat up straight. He barked his address at the cab driver, and they sped off.

"What the fuck, Don?" She whined, holding her wrist and glaring at her creative director. Don didn't look at her.

"Do you really want to get into this right now, right here?" He spat, and Peggy stared at the cab floor. An uneasy silence took them to his apartment, and he immediately grabbed her other wrist and began to drag her out of the car.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" She snarled. Don gave her a vicious look, and gripped her wrist even harder.

"What, are you going to go back to the theatre and start blowing every man there?" With another yank Peggy stumbled out of the cab, her ankle twisting on her high heels, and once again she was hobbling after Don she he stormed through his apartment building.

"Hello Mr. Draper." The doorman greeted. Don completely ignored him and angrily stabbed the 'up' button for the elevator.

"I'm not going up there." She tried again, and once again Don fixed her with a soul-crushing glare.

"We can take the stairs if you insist on being difficult." Weakly, Peggy tried to rotate her wrist, but his grip was too tight, and she wound up following him into the elevator, and into his apartment. He threw her through the door and finally let her go, quickly locking the door behind him. Peggy stumbled again, but caught herself before she fell. She kept her eyes on Don as she sat down on his couch, setting down her purse and rubbing her left wrist. Without looking at her, Don went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. She waited silently, listening to the ice cubes clink against the glass and his erratic pouring.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" He demanded, coming out of the kitchen, frowning as he waved his glass around. "What, you have a side job giving hand jobs in the theatre? We give you license to come and go as you please, and you spend your spare time _whoring_ yourself out? No wonder you were throwing yourself at John, it seems to be your nature. What, do you go and have lunch meetings with Duck that wind up with you bent over his desk? Come back and have some creative time with Ted that involves reinventing the Kama Sutra?" Some of his drink spilt out over his glass and onto his carpet, but Don didn't seem to notice or care. He just fixed his spiteful gaze on Peggy as he continued ranting. "Maybe we should just have you at client meetings just to sit and giggle and put your hands on the client's crotch. We could pay you hourly, with an allowance for hotel rooms. Jesus Peggy, you are one of the youngest copy chiefs in the country, and a woman to boot, and you just have to keep fucking it up by sleeping with _anything_ in a 50 mile radius that has a cock." His words stopped, but his hateful glare continued. Peggy felt incredible rage and helplessness, but most of all she just felt _exhausted_. Her mind raced, but she couldn't think of any words to defend herself, and she felt a pressure building under Don's intense stare. She didn't want to, but suddenly she couldn't help it, and she started to bawl.

"Don." She cried. "We can't keep _going on_ like this." She tried to force out the rest of her words, but her tears were coming too quickly and her body was racked with sobs. Don felt his anger recede, her tears cooling his wrath, and panic rose as he gazed at the crying woman on his couch.

"Peggy..." he said pleadingly, and put down his drink and slowly walked towards her. She continued sobbing as he sat down, and he was unsure of what to do.

"I just..." Peggy hiccuped and wiped her nose on the back of her hand angrily. "I can't do this. I can't have you calling me a whore at the office, getting jealous every time I have a meeting with a man. We're not even together, Don. I have done _nothing_ to earn your scorn. I owe you _nothing._" She shook her head and hiccuped again. Don's face looked pained, but she didn't even notice. "I'm going to have to leave the agency, or find a place with McCann. God, I might have to move out of the state. It's a small world in advertising, and I can't have you ruining my career because of your insane jealousy."

"Wait, wait." Don held out his hands. "Peggy, you're too good to work at that sausage factory."

"Well, I'm too good to be working for you, and it seems like all the agencies in New York wind up being eaten by them anyway." She finally looked at him, and Don's expression went from a look of panic to a crestfallen hopelessness. He leaned back on the couch and put his hand to his forehead, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I didn't want it to end up like this. _I _didn't want to end up like this." Peggy looked at him and sniffled, and waited. "I just... I didn't realize what we had. And now that I see us clearly... see _you_ clearly... it's all I can think about. I see you every time I close my eyes, and you dance across all my dreams. And then I come to work, and I watch you when you walk, when you talk to Joan in the hallway, that look of concentration when you're thinking about an ad. And then I see you talking with Ted, smiling at other men, and I see them looking at you the same way I do, thinking the same thoughts that I do, all I can focus on is that I don't want anyone else to have you. I don't want anyone else to see all these things that I do, I don't want them to have the same relationship that we do. I know it's not fair, but I can't help myself. I want you. And the only thing worse than seeing clients flirt with you in a meeting is not seeing you at all. I can't have you leave the agency, Peggy." A silence hung between them, and Peggy rubbed her wrist.

"I can't keep working here if you keep treating me like this." She said slowly.

"I know." He sat up and looked at Peggy, pleadingly. "I just need to know what we're doing. We keep winding up together, and then you act like nothing happened while I keep wanting more. And I keep thinking that you _must_ want me if you keep sleeping with me, but then you keep telling me 'no', and I don't know what to think." Peggy shifted in her seat, feeling the power dynamic change as Don looked for her approval, for her desire. Despite their troubled history, she had never enjoyed this when it happened. She had a feeling that when he gave her this power that he was looking to her to hold him together, that if she misspoke he would fly into a million pieces and that while he would always come back together, there would always be a chip in the bone china.

"I don't know Don. Ever since we first slept together in your office, I've had these... fantasies. Sometimes I imagine us together, coming home together and bouncing creative off of each other, laughing at the office antics. I see us meeting with clients for dinner, bombarding them with ideas until they break down and agree. Sometimes, I see us on the beach in some tropical paradise, making love until dawn. Everything seems perfect. And then it's gone. And I just see your failed marriages, my failed relationships, your drinking and possessiveness. I see everyone at the office whispering behind our backs, clients saying 'That's Peggy Olson, who fucked her way up the ladder'. And I think 'How could this ever work between us?' And I wonder if either of us is really capable of having a good relationship, and I wonder if we'd just be more miserable than when we started." Don's eyes were sad and vulnerable, and it tore at Peggy's heart. He took her hand and pressed her palm to his lips, and then ran his nose lightly along her fingers.

"I'm just scared. I don't have anything to offer you, Peggy. You don't need my money or connections. You don't need my approval at the office anymore. You aren't taken in by the charm I use on women at bars. You know who I am, the good and the bad. And you know it's mostly bad. I don't know how to have a real relationship, I haven't been faithful in any of them. You know me, and you don't want me, and there is nothing I can do. I'm completely at your whim, and it's a frightening place to be." Peggy looked at him with a heart-breaking sympathy.

"Don, I..." she swallowed hard, tripping on the words that had always been a subtext, but that she'd never envisioned actually saying to him. "I love you. I really do. You took me from being a quiet secretary to a copy chief. You've shaped me, and every time you've pushed me, it's given me the opportunity to be better, or to learn how to push back. I just don't know which to do in this situation." Don sighed against her palm and kissed it again. She felt tears welling in her eyes again, and despite Don's insistence that she had the upper hand, she was just as sad and confused as he was. "I don't want us to be like this, Don." He shook his head.

"I don't either." They sat in their silence, keenly aware of each other, and yet incredibly far away at the same time. Finally, Don took her hand in his and stood up, and Peggy followed him hesitantly. He gathered her towards him, holding their entangled hands at shoulder level and putting his other hand on her waist. He began swaying gently, and Peggy stiffened, frightened of this sudden intimacy and ashamed of how badly she wanted it.

"It's OK Peggy." He whispered into her ear. She felt her hesitancy break, and she leaned into him, enjoying how solid and reliable he felt against her small frame.

"We don't have any music." She said quietly. Don started humming the tune to 'My Way', and Peggy giggled, listening to his timber in his chest. They stood, swaying on their feet for a few minutes, and for a short time, everything felt perfect.

"Do you remember the last time we danced?" Don asked. Peggy nodded. "I just remember looking down at the top of your head, smelling your shampoo, and thinking 'I'm not alone.' Despite all the problems we've had, despite all our arguments and disagreements, you're always there, we always work it out. And I remember thinking that that is how it was meant to be. We were always meant to find each other, to be together. Because it isn't always pretty, but we always get exactly what we need." Peggy simply buried her head into his chest, and squeezed his hand.

Finally, Peggy broke the embrace, holding Don's hand as she stepped away. "I should go. I am supposed to be going out to dinner tonight." Don nodded sadly and squeezed her hand gently in return.

"If the night doesn't turn out, give me a call." He said. Peggy smiled and nodded, and grabbed her purse off the couch.

"Have a good evening, Don." She unlocked the door and left.


	10. A Place to Lay Your Head

**_Author's Note:_** _Thank you for the review Valerie! I agree, I've been living through reading and writing Mad Men fan fiction since the show ended. It's helping to heal my broken heart!_

* * *

Peggy liked John. She really did. He was enthusiastic and exuberant, brimming with life and excitement. He was a fun person to be with, and the time passed easily as he shared stories of growing up in Columbus and getting into mischief at his all-boys private school. He wasn't conceited or trying to show off. He was intelligent, but simple and open, and Peggy was attracted to it and repelled by it at the same time.

"Then my mother said 'John, if you do it one more time I am going to cut your wiener off and you'll _never_ lose your virginity!' And that is how I finally stopped streaking down the street." Peggy laughed.

"I'm surprised it took her until you were 13 to say that."

"She was a wise woman who picked her battles. She wanted me to stop pitching baseballs through her kitchen window before she worried about my public indecency." He replied. She laughed again and took a sip of her gin and tonic. "This was a great place, thank you for suggesting it. It didn't appear in any of the guidebooks I read about New York."

"Good. I was worried it wouldn't be fancy enough to your liking." John waved her off.

"I'm sure that you can get a hundred dollar meal that tastes like shit in this city. Going off the beaten track makes me feel like a intrepid adventurer. Of course, who can even taste the food when you're sitting across from such a beautiful woman?" Peggy smiled and blushed as she looked into the bottom of her glass.

"Beautiful women are a dime a dozen in this city." John shook his head.

"Maybe so, but it is rare to find a beautiful woman who has the brains to not sit around and try to find a husband to make her happy. I mean, you said you've been in this business for a decade? And you're only 30? I can't imagine it was easy to get taken seriously as a young woman in the 60s." Peggy shrugged.

"I was just very fortunate that the right people took an interest in me."

"I think you're amazing." His eyes shined with eagerness, and Peggy was torn between being swept up in it, and anchoring herself to the shore of what she felt was comfortable. Her thoughts kept returning to Don and their conversation, and she couldn't help but feel that there was still a cloud of unfinished business hanging over her head.

"Listen," he continued. "I know I asked you out to pick at your brain, but I really just wanted to see you. You are the perfect mix of a hard-working and ambitious and charming and beautiful. They don't make girls like you out in Ohio. I know you have to be at the office tomorrow, so I don't want to take up too much of your night, but I was wondering if you'd like to come and visit me again in Columbus? Personally? I could show you the sights, you could come out during the state fair..." Peggy smiled a small, sad smile.

"John, I'd love to, but I'm just not ready for a relationship at this moment. I just have a lot of stuff going on, and to be honest I am not a great girlfriend. I work a lot, and I get really wrapped up in it, and tend to forget about other people. It isn't anything personal, but this just isn't the time." John nodded, his brown eyes looking a little saddened, and Peggy felt horrible.

"I understand. There's only so much time and energy one person has, and I can tell you pour a lot of love into your work. I don't want you to think this will affect our contract. I didn't just give it to you because I like you. I really am going to recommend you, and you personally, not the agency, when our other advertising contracts run out." Peggy smiled again.

"You are very sweet. I don't think anyone has ever been so enthusiastic about my work before."

"You deserve every compliment I can ply you with, plus a hundred more." He opened the cheque on the table, but Peggy grabbed it and shook her head.

"You're a client, I'm the one who needs to pay. That's how it works in New York." He looked surprised, and then torn.

"It would be rather... ungentlemanly of me to let a woman pay, even if it isn't her money."

"Hey, you wanted to experience the city, and this is part of it." She grinned, and then laid out some bills on the table.

"Well, thank you." She shook her head.

"To be honest, the partners would probably be horrified if I told them I took you to place where the entrées were less than $20 a plate. Next time you come out, we can go somewhere a little more renown." John grinned.

"I'd like that." Peggy got up to grab her coat and purse, and John followed her out the door.

"It's getting late, let's get you home. I'll get us a cab." Peggy shook her head.

"No, that's alright. I'm dog-sitting for my sister who is out of town, so I'll need to go to her place first to let the dog out." John frowned.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable letting you wander around New York in the dark."

"It's fine, the city gets a bad rap but once you've lived here a while, you know what places to avoid after hours." John nodded.

"It was been a lovely evening. Thank you for keeping me company."

"The pleasure was all mine." Peggy assured him.

"What kind of dog does she have?" He asked as they meandered to the front of the restaurant.

"Umm... one of the small ones. I don't know. It has curly hair." She lied.

"Good. I hate it when people in the city have large breeds. Those kinds of dogs need lots of space and fresh air." He turned to her, and reached for her hand.

"Goodnight Peggy."

"Goodnight John." She gave his a firm shake. "Have a safe flight back to Ohio tomorrow."

* * *

Don was watching the news when his telephone rang. He sighed and set down his bourbon.

"Hello?"

"Hey Don." His eyebrows shot up.

"Hello Peggy. How did your night go?"

"It was good." Don hesitated. He didn't like that answer, but it couldn't have been _that _good if she was calling him at 10 in the evening.

"I'm glad it went well." There was another moment of silence where he could hear the loud laughter of bar patrons in the background.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come and pick me up?" He gave a small smile into the receiver.

"I'd love to, honey. Where are you?"

"I'm at Murphy's pub."

"I'll be there in 15 minutes."

* * *

Peggy saw Don drive up the street, and quickly ran out and jumped into the passenger's seat. He looked at her for a moment, trying to drink her the sight of her with all of his senses. She looked back at him expectantly.

"Where are we going?" He asked, putting the car in first and pulling away from the curb.

"Let's go to my place." She replied.

"Great, where is it?" Peggy took a drag of her cigarette.

"The upper east side." Don frowned as he shifted into third, entering the flow of traffic in the night.

"That isn't the best area for a single woman to live in."

"Really? I haven't heard that from my mother, my sister, my coworkers, my friends, and my neighbours. Just drive." Don let out a low chuckle and turned up the radio.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

"Mind the poop." Peggy said as they entered the stairwell. Don stared at the step.

"Is that human?"

"Probably." Don carefully took in their surrounds as he ascended.

"I know what you make, Peggy. You could afford something nicer than this." She sighed as they reached her level, and Peggy inserted the key into the lock.

"I own the entire building, so I am in it for the long haul." Don raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That's quite the investment. Why did you buy the whole thing?" Peggy set her coat and purse down on the couch and kicked off her shoes. Down followed suit.

"I was dating this hippie at the time who wanted to live in a 'area with different types of people'." She made quotation marks with her fingers. "I thought it was going to be _the_ relationship, so I invested here because he wanted to. So much for the apartment and the boyfriend." She went into the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine." He eyed the apartment, which was fortunately a lot nicer than the stairwell they had come up. "You do know you can sell it?" Peggy popped out from the kitchen and fixed him with a look.

"Did you come over here just to shit on this place?" Don shrugged.

"Well someone has already been there and done that, so..." Peggy laughed, and Don took the time to look her over. She was wearing simple but cute blue dress with a v neck that showed a minimal amount of cleavage but hugged her exactly where it should. He liked that the dress had a little bow at the bottom of the v, like she was waiting to be unwrapped. He strode over to her and pulled her in by the waist, touching their foreheads together. "You look stunning."

"Thank you." She said shyly, and tilted her head up to meet Don's kiss. It was slow and sensual, and Peggy felt herself grow wet as Don's hands ran up and down her sides.

"Here." She grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom. She laid down and grabbed his tie, pulling him on top of her. Her hands wandered to the buttons on his shirt and she began to undo them.

"Peggy." He groaned, and he took one of her hands in his own. "I don't want to do this." She frowned.

"But you're hard. I can feel it." He chuckled, and nuzzled his head into the crook of her shoulder.

"I know. Its involuntary. I just want to be next to you, and hold you. I don't want to do anything until we know where we stand." Peggy sighed as he rolled off of her and onto his side. "C'mon." He put an arm around her, and she put her back to him so they were spooning. "How did it go tonight?"

"It went well. He is a really sweet guy." She paused. "He reminded me a lot of Ted." Don unzipped the back of her dress and unhooked her bra.

"Oh?" He asked, and began rubbing circles into her back. Peggy sighed contentedly.

"Yeah. I don't know. He was just so... earnest. So innocent." Don snorted.

"No man is innocent."

"Some are more than others." She retorted. "He wanted me to visit him in Ohio. I told him I wasn't interested in a relationship right now. I just kept thinking about you and our conversation." Don kissed the back of her neck and reached under her dress to wrap his arm around her waist. "What kind of relationship would you see us having? What would it look like?"

"Well," he murmured into her back." I'm torn between two ideas. The first one is that you move into my office, and I just watch you while you work all day. Like a voyeur, I just sit and sip whiskey and watch you while you bite the end of your pencil and scribble down notes, and at lunch I just brush them all aside and make love to you. On the other hand, I like the idea of coming home and having you on the bed, dressed up in lingerie, maybe with a little bow that I get to undo every night. You're just waiting for me to come home, and we spend the entire evening having sex." Peggy snorted.

"No, I mean, practically. Would we have a real relationship, or just sex? Would people at the office know? Would we go out on dates? Is this something with future potential, or just a hedonistic fantasy that we live out for a while and then go on?" Don planted a few slow kisses on her back, and she moaned.

"I'd take you everywhere, Peggy. To the office, out to dinner, out to the theatre. We'd go shopping, go on vacation, have Thanksgiving together. I don't know the future. But I want to try."

"What about children? Do you want anymore?" She asked.

"That would be up to you." Peggy stared at her walls, and sighed.

"I don't think I do. I mean, I'm not great with kids, and I'm already 30. Who knows if it is still even possible? And sometimes, when I think about the past, a part of me feels so grateful that I didn't have to be a parent, and that I was able to devote so much of myself to work. Is that selfish?"

"No. It is very practical." He replied. "But work isn't all there is to life, Peggy." He kissed the back of her neck again. She snorted.

"Coming from you that is a load of bullshit." They lay together for a moment, enjoying the silence. Don loved the perfume she was wearing. It had a fruity smell with an undertone of ginger, and it caressed his head as he gently drifted off.

"I stabbed my ex boyfriend." Peggy said suddenly. Don opened his eyes.

"After convincing you to buy this place, I would have stabbed him too." Peggy giggled.

"I got scared when we first moved in, and I was looking out the window late one night, and I had a knife. I heard something sneaking up behind me, and I turned around and stabbed him. He broke up with me in the ambulance." Don smiled.

"I sounds like some sort of metaphor. 'Our worst fears lay in anticipation, and it only hurts the ones we love.'" Peggy giggled, and offered up her own.

"'The real enemies are the ones closest to you.'" Don chuckled, and took his hand and gently grabbed both of her wrists.

"I'm going to keep my eye on these. Just in case."


	11. Saks and Busy Bodies

_**Author's Note:** Letostag, I love their relationship too. Thank God for fan fiction!_

"Hello Peggy." Joan smiled as she dunked her tea bag into her mug. Peggy smiled back.

"Hello Joan."

"Come to my office, we need to talk about the Ciba account." The redhead turned on her heel, and Peggy followed her into her office, where Joan closed the door and turned to her, her face bright with a conspiratory smile. "I want you to tell me all about your romantic night. The entire office was buzzing about it." Peggy frowned.

"How does everyone know?"

"Please Peggy. Everyone could see how that man from Ciba was glowing at you, and you know how quickly gossip runs around this place." Peggy nodded, relieved that she wasn't talking about Don. Of course she wasn't.

"Right. Well, it was nice." Joan raised her eyebrow.

"That's it? He was nice?"

"I really liked him." Peggy replied. "But I told him I wasn't really looking for anything serious." Joan's face fell as she sighed as she put her mug down on her desk, and looked at her coworker through hooded eyes.

"Peggy. You're not getting any younger, and to speak honestly, I am sick and tired of seeing you live at this office. You _deserve_ some man who is rich, kind, good with kids and _available_. You can't stay married to your work. It doesn't keep you warm at night." Peggy nodded again.

"I know. I just... I hate dating. I suck at it. I don't have your natural charm. I just feel more comfortable at work."

"No one ever went anywhere by staying in their comfort zone, Peggy." The brunette sighed.

"You're right. You're always right Joan." Joan smiled.

"Of course I am. Now, did you at least have one night of unbridled passion?" Peggy laughed.

"Joan! No, he's a good Ohio boy. He didn't even try." Joan shook her head sadly.

"You need someone with a bit more spine than that. I think after work we need to go shopping and get you a good set of dating clothes. Just some dresses that spark the imagination a little more than what you wear to the office."

"I'd like that."

"You are going to be off the clock by 5, and we are going to head down to Saks." The brunette nodded, smiling widely.

"Alright. I'll see you then."

* * *

When Peggy entered her office, Stan was waiting on the couch for her.

"What are you doing here so early?" She asked, taking off her coat.

"I'm waiting to see how your big date went." Peggy sighed and sat down in her office chair.

"Why is everyone so concerned with my love life all of the sudden?"

"C'mon Peggy. We're interested because we want to see you _happy_. I mean, I know things get crazy and bitchy around here, but at the end of the day, everyone is rooting for you, in everything you do." He shot a look at the door. "Besides, Joan's not getting any flowers lately, so we can't gossip about her."

"It went fine, Stan." She looked through her drawers, trying to find the ad for Chevalier she had worked on. Remembering something, she looked up and asked "How about you and your new girlfriend?" Stan snorted.

"She's hardly _new_, Pegs. But we're doing well. I think we're going to move in together."

"Invite me to the housewarming." She instructed.

"You are first on the list, which is fortunate because you will be hosting it yourself."

* * *

"So, the winter campaign for Chevalier Blanc is hitting TV hard, as per usual." Peggy was anxiously fiddling around with storyboards as Don watched her, and she felt self-conscious in front of his appraising eye. She dropped a board and blushed, and Stan rushed over to pick it up. As he handed it off to her, he gave her an intense, encouraging stare that said 'Don't let him intimidate you'. She swallowed and put the storyboard back on the stand. "This man will be going to a Christmas party. It's snowing outside, it's dark but lit with softly glowing Christmas lights. An attractive woman opens the door, and they smile at each other. She motions to him to hand her his coat, and he does so and then is called to another part of the house by a friend. This hostess hugs the coat and brings the collar up to smell it, while glancing at her guest. The tagline is 'The mark of a man'."

"That's good." Don said simply. "We'll go in that direction." John, Stan and Peggy stared at him, not sure what to say.

"Uuuhhh... thanks?" Peggy finally asked weakly. The 30 second meeting seemed unusually productive for Don Draper.

"Put out the casting call and let me know when auditions are." Don said, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"Shouldn't this get greenlit by McCann first?" John asked. Don exhaled slowly.

"We're trying a new approach. It's called the 'It's better to ask forgiveness than beg permission' method of negotiation. So let me worry about it." All three members of the team continued to stare.

"You can go." Don offered. "But Peggy, a moment." John immediately got up and went out the door, but Stan stayed where he was, eyeing Don suspiciously. Don shot Peggy a questioning look, then turned his gaze to the artistic director.

"Is there a problem, Stan?" He asked.

"Are you going to create one, Draper?" He asked. Peggy's eyes went wide, and she looked anxiously between the two men.

"Stan, it's alright, I don't-"

"Peggy, let the men handle this one." He replied, not taking his eyes off of Don. The raven haired man looked confused and irritated as he checked his watch.

"What is your issue?" He asked.

"My _issue_ is that the last time the three of us were in a room together, you called Peggy a whore. God only knows what you say to her when you don't have an audience, so I thought I would babysit for a while." Stan grinned angrily. Don looked surprised. He had genuinely forgotten about the incident already, and as always had underestimated the impact it had on the office. He looked down at his hand, which was toying with the dying embers of his cigarette.

"You're right." He said finally, looking up at both of them. "Peggy, it was inappropriate to say that to you, and not only because we had an audience. I am sorry." Stan looked at Peggy, silently asking if that was enough.

"Thanks Don. Apology accepted." She said quickly, and gave a large, fake smile, mostly for Stan's benefit. Stan didn't look like he was convinced of anything, and sat for a moment, looking between the two creative minds, like he had caught a whiff of something and was trying to figure out where the scent was coming from.

"Alright then." Stan got up, and grabbed a couple of storyboards. Before leaving, he shot a warning stare at Don. His boss nodded at him, and Stan left the office, closing the door behind him.

"Well." Don said, raising his eyes. "You have quite the protector." Peggy smiled genuinely this time.

"Stan has always looked out for me." She replied. Don nodded, gazing at her softly.

"In a brotherly way, I assume?" She scowled.

"Don, not this again. He cares about me, in a completely platonic way. He's a friend."

"I just like the idea of someone looking out for you." He said sincerely. Peggy smirked.

"I thought you said that you never worry about me."

"I don't. But everyone needs a hand once in a while." He walked over to her, and wrapped his hands loosely around her waist, looking down with hooded eyes. "I want to go out with you tonight."

"Oh." She replied, her heart beating faster. "I'm supposed to be going shopping with Joan after work."

"We can go out after that. Meet me at 8pm at the Roosevelt hotel." Peggy smiled questioningly.

"Don, we both live alone. We don't have to go to a hotel to-"

"It's not about sex, Peggy. I had other ideas in mind." He replied.

"Oh. Well, OK then."

"But if you wanted to slip into some new dress you bought, I wouldn't say no..." he trailed off. Peggy smiled and playfully hit his bicep.

"We'll see how nice you are to me." She challenged as she slipped out of his embrace. Don raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"This will be the best work day of your life."

* * *

"No." Joan shook her head as Peggy came out of the dressing room. "Girls like us weren't meant to wear the Twiggy look. Don't try on items that _aren't_ tapered at the waist."

"Yes, mistress Joan." Peggy sighed. Her coworker shot her a look.

"Shopping is an art, Peggy. One that you need to learn." Peggy frowned, looking a little hurt.

"I didn't think I was _that_ bad."

"You've improved." Joan admitted. "We're just bringing you into line with the professionals." Peggy went back into the dressing room and slipped into another dress, and went back out for Joan's approval. The redhead's eyes lit up and her lips curled into a smile. "That is the one."

"Good, because it's the only one left in there."

"Then it was meant to be." Joan put out her cigarette and got up. "Take that one, and the pink one with the belt, and let's go and grab some dinner."

"I have some plans." Peggy replied as she went back into the dressing room and started to redress herself.

"Ooooo. Well, maybe you should wear that one out of here then." Joan teased.

"It's not like... well, it's a little like that. I think."

"Who are you seeing?" Joan asked in a sing-song voice.

"A guy." She answered flatly. "I don't know. We're... testing the waters, I guess."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing more wrong than with most men." Peggy came out of the dressing room with the two dresses slung over her arm.

"Does he happen to be from the office?" The buxom woman asked innocently. Peggy winced.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to." Joan smiled knowingly.

"So, after a fabulous evening of shopping, you are leaving me to dine on my own so you can date some of the scum from the office pool?" Peggy smiled and shook her head exasperatedly.

"I don't think you ever need to be alone if you don't want to, Joan." The redhead smiled coquettishly.

"True."

"Speaking about my love life, how is yours? Usually you get flowers at least once a month, and I haven't seen any lately."

"Usually I get flowers once a week, and maybe you would notice more often if you spent time in places other than your office and Don's." Peggy blushed lightly as they took their clothes to the register. "But if you must know, I am seeing a banker."

"Is he boring?"

"Incredibly." Joan smiled. "But the dinners he buys are amazing. I am going to milk this one out a little bit. He promised me a trip to Wyoming."

"Jesus Joan." They both laughed as the cashiers rang them up, and exited Saks.

"Well, enjoy your date." Joan said flirtatiously. "And I want a full report tomorrow. And it has to be better than 'It was nice'."

"It'll be a raunchy novel that will make even you blush."

"I am looking forward to it, as long as you don't tell me which one you did it with." Joan leaned forward and kissed Peggy on both cheeks. The brunette stared as the taller woman pulled away, looking uncomfortable. "I'm practicing for my exotic trip." She winked, and turned down the street and walked away. Peggy smiled and shook her head. Eyeing the darkened streets, she checked her watch. Perfect. It was 7:45.


	12. Lobster of Love

_**Author's Note: **I did a tiny bit of research for this chapter, but most of it is made up. I apologise to all the scotch aficionados out there in advance :)_

Don was waiting at the bar when Peggy found him, and he immediately stood up and looked her up and down appreciatively.

"Is that a new dress?" He asked.

"Yes, picked out by Joan herself." She replied, and she consciously rubbed her hands along the silken body.

"You make the dress look beautiful." He reached for her waist and pulled her in, planting a soft kiss on her red lips. She smiled widely as he let her go. _This_ was the charming Don Draper that women fell in love with, and she could understand why. She felt like she was at the epicentre of everything fascinating and beautiful with just a glance from him, and she couldn't remember anyone else ever having made her feel that way.

"I have a big night planned for us." Don stated.

"That sounds intimidating on a Thursday night." He grinned.

"We'll see how you do." He turned to the bar, and Peggy saw that, neatly lined up in in two rows of eight were 16 shot glasses. Her eyes widened.

"What is this for?" Don grinned again.

"I told you that if you knew your scotch, I would give you my prized, 65 year old bottle. I'm putting you to the test."

"Well." She sat down on the bar stool, hanging her purse on the hook and looking at Don expectantly. "Are you ready to lose it?"

"We'll see." He took the first set of shot glasses, and placed on in front of Peggy. He raised his, and Peggy clinked their glasses, and they both swallowed the contents.

"Thoughts?" He asked.

"It's a young scotch. It tastes... a little green. Like when you walk in the woods." Don raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Good. It's Johnny Walker White, with overtones of peat moss."

"We don't have this around the office." She stated. Don shook his head.

"That one isn't going to put hair on your chest. Or keep you awake for a nine o'clock meeting." He reached for the second set of shot glasses. They repeated their ritual, and Don looked at his date expectantly.

"Older than the first. Kind of sweet. Flowery almost." Don nodded again.

"It's Glenfiddich, aged 12 years. They tend to be a bit sweeter than the Walker label." Peggy nodded, and grinned triumphantly.

"Are you nervous?"

"You still have 6 shots to go. You have to make astute observations about all of them to get the bottle." One by one, they downed the shots, and by the fifth scotch, Peggy was definitely feeling the effects.

"How old do you think it is?" Don asked by the sixth one. She closed her eyes for a moment as the room tilted slightly.

"18 years?" She guessed. Don smirked.

"I put this one out of order. It's the 40 year old. What label?"

"Magenta. Magenta with zebra stripes." Don chuckled.

"It's Glenfiddich again, and I believe you just lost."

"That's not fair." Peggy whined. "My palate is all mixed up. I need a cleanser. I need to suck on some coffee beans or something."

"This isn't perfume, Peggy." She leaned over the bar and laid her head on the table. Don frowned.

"What did you have for dinner?" He asked. She shook her head.

"I thought we were having dinner here."

"That... is a good idea." He caught the bartender's eye and asked for a couple of menus. "Sit up, sweetheart." She groggily sat upright, swaying slightly, and Don held her arms on either side. She had a sloppy grin on her face, and Don couldn't help but smile back. "I think you're in over your head."

"I think _you're_ in over _your _head. You don't know what kind of woman I am when I am drunk."

"You might be right about that." The bartender returned with some menus, and Don stood up and wrapped his arm around Peggy from behind. She moaned contentedly, and he opened up one menu for them to read together.

"We should get the lobster." She pointed drunkenly.

"Only if it comes with steak."

"Don't you like seafood?" She pouted. Don shook his head into the back of her hair.

"I didn't have seafood growing up. I never acquired the taste for it."

"It is really good." She said stubbornly.

"I'll have a bite of yours." He assured her, and grabbed the bartender's attention again.

"One lobster tail, and a steak, rare." The bartender nodded and took their menus away, and Don held Peggy gently, lightly swaying to the music and breathing in the scent of her hair. He felt _good_, in a pure, unbridled and unencumbered way that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"We haven't finished the shots." Peggy pouted again. Don chuckled, and gave her small waist a squeeze.

"I don't think you need the rest of those."

"That's not very gentlemanly. Aren't you supposed to do whatever the lady wants on a date?"

"I don't know." Don nuzzled his nose on the top of her hair. "Is this a date?"

"I think it's a little," Peggy hiccupped. "inconsiderate to take a beautiful woman, get her very drunk, and ask if this is a date." Don stopped his swaying and wrapped his arms tighter, feeling like if he held her gently she would evaporate like the fumes from the scotch.

"Peggy... do you want this?" There was a pause, and he felt like his head might explode from the tension, and he wondered if it had been the right thing to say.

"I do, Don." She finally said softly, with a great gravity. "I really do." He bent his head down, swept her hair to the side, and laid a trail of kisses from the ear down to the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and moaned softly.

"That isn't just the alcohol talking, is it?" She took one of his hands and placed it in her lap, pressing his large palm forcefully against her pubic bone.

"There are a few different parts of me talking right now. But they all want the same thing."

"Then I consider myself a very lucky man." Peggy reached over to the bar, and took two of the remaining shots and took one after another. "You are going to be ill before the end of the night."

"And you'll get to clean it up!" She said cheerfully, and broke out of Don's embrace to grab the remaining two shots. She offered them up to him, and he followed Peggy's lead, and downed them one after the other.

* * *

"I don't feel so good." Peggy moaned as she leaned into Don. "I think the lobster was a bad idea."

"I think two whiskey sours after 8 shots was a bad idea." He corrected her.

"Let's not do that again." She briefly tripped over her own feet, but Don held her upright.

"I don't know. I think I like you like this."

"Horny and without inhibition?" She asked.

"There's that. Although don't think that just because you poured a couple of drinks in me that I'm yours for the taking. I'm not just some easy man that will go home with you at the drop of a hat."

"What about at the drop of my panties?" She teased. He raised an eyebrow.

"That might work." She giggled as they entered the lobby of his building, and he was thankful that there was a different doorman from the one who had seen them together previously. He nodded towards the man, and he and Peggy got on the elevator. He held her close and she melted into him as they wordlessly rose to the Penthouse. When they went inside, Peggy immediately sprawled out on the couch. Don smiled and sat down beside her head, putting her in a sitting position so he could take her coat and purse and hang them up.

"The last time I was here – I mean, before the last, last time, was for your birthday." Peggy said thoughtfully. "Megan was singing that French song about Scooby Doo." Don immediately winced at the memory.

"Thank you for bringing that up. I had almost managed to forget about it." He went and sat down by Peggy again, but she unsteadily rose and stood before him.

"I think we need a repeat performance. But more... modern this time." She threw her head back, accidentally stumbling back a few feet, and started on with her best overwrought Robert Plant impression.

"You need cccccooooooolllinnnn', baby I ain't fffoooooooooolllllin. Imma seeeeend yeaaaahhhhh back to schhhooooooolllllliiinnnn'..." Don put his head in his hands and started to giggle helplessly. Peggy continued belting out the lyrics and in a mockery of seductiveness, slinked over to Don and started to undo her dress.

"Waaay down inside, uh hunny you neeeeeeeeedddd it. I'm gonna give you my love, every inch of my loooovvveee!" Don grabbed her around the waist and threw her onto the couch, where they both dissolved into fits of laughter.

"I don't think that was meant for a woman to sing." He smiled.

"Oh no." She replied in mock concern. "I guess you'll have to show me why."

* * *

Don was very slow and methodical in his love making this time, much to Peggy's annoyance. She was drunk and impatient, almost child-like in her enthusiasm, but he wouldn't rush over an inch of her skin. He reverently kissed his way from her neck through the valley between her breasts and down to her belly button, making frequent detours and side trips. She knew him in a way that no one else did, and Don wanted to return the favour and map every crevice and unexplored territory that no one else had taken the time to before. He ignored her protests – he figured she would be too drunk to remember the rest of the night, so he focused on what _he_ wanted. He wanted to see her gasp when he hooked his fingers inside of her a certain way, and see her squirm with delight when he kissed a particularly sensitive area. He wanted to watch her face when he was inside of her, and crush her lips against his when he felt his end coming. And so he did.

* * *

Friday morning, Don and Peggy woke up in his bed, both hungover to a certain extent. The sun streamed in through the window, and Peggy wasn't entirely certain, but she thought that once she got over her excruciating headache, she would find that she was happy.

"What time is it?" She muttered.

"8." Don replied, planting a kiss between her shoulder blades. "How are you feeling?"

"Aspirin." With a grunt, Don got up and paddled to his bathroom to get a glass of water and some medication.

"Are we going to stop by your place to find you a different outfit?" He asked. Peggy groaned as she took a gulp of water and a pill, and then shook her head.

"You go in first. Tell them I had a breakfast meeting with... someone. I don't know. Someone important sounding. I'll make myself pretty at home."

"So we're not going to let the office know?" He tried to sound neutral, but Peggy knew that he was disappointed.

"Don," she looked at him softly, or as softly as she could through squinted eyes. "I can't be Megan. I need us to be able to maintain our work integrity." He sighed.

"Peggy..."

"You don't know Don. You've never been a working woman. It's different for us."

"It isn't the 60s anymore." He argued. "Times have changed. McCann has an entire harem of female copywriters now."

"How many of them are in management? How many of them will ever climb higher than they already have? Not everyone has _you_ looking out for them, Don, and if word gets out that you are looking at me in any way that isn't professional, no one is going to believe that my work gets your approval because of its quality." She got out of bed, and started putting her clothes back on. Don sighed.

"Fine. But that means that you can only enjoy my 65 year old bottle of scotch while you're in my apartment."

"There are some sacrifices a woman has to make." She replied dryly. She bent over to look for her bra, but squinted and toppled back over on the bed.

"Jesus, close the blinds, will ya?"


	13. Bring Peggy Up, Bring Peggy Down

_**Author's Note: **Thank you for your review Irma! It's actually probably for the better I haven't been getting a lot of reviews lately. I promised a chapter every 3 days if I received reviews, and while I'm still ahead of the story, I haven't had a lot of time to write recently, and the chapters I have could probably use a bit more TLC :)_

"Don, I need to talk to you." Don looked up as Roger entered his office, and put down his papers, eyeing the man critically.

"You obviously need to talk to _someone_." He retorted. Roger had dyed his hair and eyebrows a jet black colour and shaved off his moustache. His impeccable style had also changed as well. In place of his usual suits, he wore a pair of navy blue trousers, a brown blazer and a pink dress shirt.

"I love it when men look me up and down." Roger lit a cigarette and plopped down in the chair in front of Don's desk. "I talked to Hobart this morning."

"Jesus, I haven't even started drinking yet, Roger." The newly-minted brunette looked seriously at the creative director as he took a drag.

"Now, I know you have a hard-on for Peggy, but he wants her to work at McCann. Temporarily. Tiffany's is finally looking to do some advertising, and the account is worth $15 million for a national campaign."

"What?" Don snapped, his jovial mood quickly soured. "Don't they have their own female copywriters?" Roger shrugged.

"Yeah, but they're all juniors and he wants someone with a bit more experience. It's just six months, starting two weeks after Monday. I don't know why they want a woman on this account anyway. Men may not know what they want, but neither do women."

"'Just six months'?" Don demanded. "So they get the contract, and then what? 'Oh, sorry, we can't do this account without Peggy, she's with us until Tiffany's goes out of business?' And where does it end? They'll start gutting our creative department, slowly but surely, then one day we come to work and Harry and the computer aren't here, and before we know it, Ted is at McCann full-time too."

"If you're trying to make this unappealing, you're doing a terrible job." Don stared hard at his partner.

"They can't just start cherry picking our employees."

"Actually, they can. It's in the contract." Roger replied. At Don's glare, he added "I didn't read it either, but Cutler assures me it can be done." Don punched the button on his intercom.

"Meredith, get me Jim Hobart on the line. Now." Roger sighed.

"Don, don't be stubborn about this. I know you like watching her walk up and down the halls, but the chance to do Tiffany's first advertising campaign in years is a great opportunity for her." Don ignored him and tapped his fingers on the desk, waiting for the line to light up.

"Jim Hobart on line-" Don hit the speakerphone button and picked up the call.

"Hello Don. It's nice to get a call from you once in a while." Jim said jovially.

"I'm here too." Roger added miserably.

"I heard that you're taking Ms. Olson, on short notice." Don snapped. Jim chuckled.

"I knew you wouldn't like it, but it is a big campaign that we need firepower for. It's only temporary, and her name has become a bit of a buzzword around all the New York agencies. It'll be good for her career, and she can come back home, bigger and brighter than ever."

"We can't spare her." He replied stoutly. "We've signed our first drug company, and she is the lead on this. We can't continue the contract without her, not to mention that she is taking care of almost all of the creative work in this agency."

"Maybe you shouldn't have made her so indispensable." Jim advised. "I know you hire a lot of freelancers, it shouldn't be too hard to fill her place for a while. Maybe hire another copychief and see if you can't find another rising star, Don."

"She is not replaceable." Don's hand picked up a pen and squeezed it tightly.

"Try." Jim sounded amused. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a meeting to go to."

"Great talking to you, Jim." Roger said unenthusiastically. Hobart hung up and, frustrated, Don marched over to his drink cart and poured himself a Canadian Club.

"We need a partners' meeting. Now." Roger sighed and held up his hands helplessly.

"Don-"

"Meredith!" Don strode to the door and looked at the blonde. "Call Pete, Joan, Ted and Jim and tell them there is an emergency partners' meeting in my office now."

"Right away Mr. Draper."

* * *

The rest of the partners filed in while Don animatedly went through his office, searching for the contract that they had signed with McCann Erikson, and collecting a pad and pen while taking frequent sips of his whiskey. Joan observed him with surprise.

"My, what emergency had been wrought upon us today?" She asked dryly. Ted and Jim walked in, closing the door behind them.

"McCann Erikson is starting to gut our office." He started. Ted crossed his legs as he sat down on Don's couch.

"How so?"

"They're taking Peggy. They want her to work at McCann on a new account."

"This is only temporary." Roger cut in. "She'll be back here in six months."

"Or so they say." Don looked around at all of the partners. "They're pitching for a contract with Tiffany's that they want her for. The contract, if they get it, will last longer than six months. What are they going to do _then_?"

"This is outrageous!" Pete declared. "Can they do this?"

"Yes." Cutler replied. "It specifically says on page four that, at McCann's will, any changes can be made in our staffing levels or personnel. Quite frankly, I don't see what the problem is with this. Peggy will gain experience at McCann, and when she comes back she can give us an insider's view of what they are expecting and who to talk to. We've been having communications issues with them, this could help."

"This is ridiculous. We were promised autonomy, and we haven't had a shred of it since McCann bought us out. Enough is enough." Pete chimed in.

"I'm with Jim on this." Ted replied. "It'll be great for Peggy to get some experience in a larger agency, and the contract must be pretty impressive."

"$15 million." Roger articulated slowly. Ted whistled.

"I'd like to be on that."

"Why don't you go over instead then?" Don asked irritatedly. "You're not doing much around here anyway."

"Hey." Jim warned. "We have enough to deal with in terms of Jim Hobart, don't start making enemies at _this_ office, Draper."

"Look," Ted said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "I just think that we'd be holding Peggy back if we tried to get out of this. It is a big deal, and a chance to prove herself to the higher-ups at McCann." Don shook his head and strode around his desk.

"We can get Tiffany's. We will go in and pitch for them as well." Cutler shook his head at this.

"Don, we have a non-compete clause. If McCann is pitching, we are automatically out of the running."

"So we're just supposed to twiddle our thumbs and be a farm for McCann to pick from? Get people trained so they can go and work at that sausage factory once they get good enough?" Pete demanded.

"No, this should be a benefit for working for us." Ted replied. "The ability to work at a smaller agency, or if you're interested, joining the big leagues. Think of it as an endless chance at promotion."

"Have you asked Peggy if she wants to go?" Joan broke in, looking at Don questioningly. He gave her a look of disgust.

"After you work with someone for a decade, you know what they want, and Peggy doesn't want to be ground up and spat out at a packing plant." He fished his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

"I think we should ask Peggy what she wants to do, and decide how to approach this from there." Joan said slowly, eyeing Don as if he were particularly slow. "This may not be the issue we're making it out to be."

"Fine." Don spat. "PEGGY! Get in here!" He yelled.

"You DO have a secretary." Jim winced. The partners heard her footsteps approaching the door, and she looked surprised as she entered the office.

"Are you offering me a partnership?" She asked, half dryly and half hopefully. Don shook his head.

"McCann wants you to work for them for six months, meaning you'd be out of this office for half a year. They want you working on a Tiffany's campaign, probably exclusively. It's a large contract." Her face lit up in surprise once again, and Don stared her down darkly. "We're seeing what we can do to get you out of it."

"The question," Ted piped up. "is if you would like to go to McCann for a while. It is a big opportunity."

"You're already working on Ciba, you can't abandon that to go running around after tennis bracelets." Don reminded her. Peggy looked stunned.

"Oh. That is a flattering offer." She said, and suddenly looked a little self-conscious standing in the centre of the partner circle. "I mean, if I went to McCann, I could always do extra work here on the weekends. I wouldn't have to abandon SCP entirely." Don's eyes narrowed into slits.

"I think this is something you can think on over the weekend." Joan said kindly. "If you decide you want to go, we'll all be happy for you." Her eyes flashed to Pete and Don in warning.

"There will always be a place for you here, Peggy." Ted noted.

"Thank you." She replied genuinely.

"Right." Roger stood up. "It looks like this can wait until Monday for further action." For the first time, the partners seemed to notice his change in appearance.

"Roger..." Ted took an appraising eye to his colleague. "Looking good."

"Thank you." Roger nodded to Ted, and walked out of the office, and the rest of the partners took suit. Peggy wandered out, a little dazed from both her hang over and the offer. She played her with necklace absentmindedly as she she slowly walked to kitchen to get yet another cup of coffee.

"Peggy." Pete followed her out, and began walking with her. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, I mean... it's quite... something." She offered. Pete snorted.

"That is how I would describe Roger's dye job. Are you interested?" He grabbed two mugs from the shelves and began pouring the caffeinated liquid.

"Who wouldn't be? I don't especially want to be at McCann, but Tiffany's..." She trailed off. He leaned against the counter and offered her a mug, looking at her quizzically as he bit the corner of his lip.

"Look, I am against this in principle. I don't like the idea that Jim Hobart can march in and take our best creative whenever he feels like it, and I don't like the idea of you being one of a hundred other copywriters. But if I were you, I would take it."

"Oh? Why?" Pete looked around, ensuring their privacy, and dropped his voice.

"It would be excellent for your career. It's Tiffany's, for the love of God. They haven't advertised in so long, you would essentially be pioneering any work done for them in the future. Plus, after what Don said to you in the meeting with John, I think it may be time for something, or someone, a little different. The man can be a tyrant, you need to show him that you don't need him to succeed." Peggy nodded slowly.

"Do you think they would hire someone else to fill my position while I was gone?" Pete looked at her, grinning a little.

"There are a million copywriters in this city, but there is only one Peggy Olson. Besides, we'd probably just fill your hours from the freelance pool, and those people don't have gainful employment for a reason." Peggy giggled and took a sip from her cup.

"Thank you, Pete." He nodded.

"Besides, we'll have you on the inside. That could work to our advantage."

"Like a double agent." He smiled and nodded.

"Exactly."

* * *

Don sat in his office, smoking and drinking slowly. He had expected Peggy to outright reject the notion of working at McCann Erikson. They had spent hours during their late nights trash-talking the agency, taking bets on how long until one of the sardines lost it and burnt the place down. Now she wanted to join the sardine can, and he felt... slighted. He looked down a the storyboards for Chevalier Noir, and traced the words of the tagline. 'No one at McCann could have taught her to create this.' He thought bitterly. He picked up his phone and dialled Peggy's number.

"Peggy Olson's office." She answered.

"It's me."

"Hey." He waited in the silence until she finally broke it. "You don't want me to go, do you?" He snorted softly.

"Of course not. Why would I want my best copywriter to go and get lost in a ten story building where she'll be put on a shelf and never looked at again?" He could feel Peggy deliberating on the other end of the line, and once again held his silence. Yelling had always been an impressive tool to display his dismay, but in the end, like all fathers do, he knew that silence was the ultimate weapon. He could feel Peggy chewing on her words and thoughts, and he hoped that he was giving her pause, if not making her sweat a little.

"Why don't we have dinner tonight and discuss this?"

"Great. We'll leave together at 6." He hung up the receiver before she had a chance to respond.


	14. Russian Spies

_**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone! I guess I'm going to have to keep up my writing! INeedAUserName, I agree! Cutler is an easy guy to hate, but when he came in I thought 'How did SCDP manage to even get off the ground?' Guest, thank you very much! :) Irma, you are too kind! thekerser, I completely agree! I think Don tends to give away a lot of power to women in his life in the beginning, and then he tends to run off and cheat and stop giving a fuck. He's all in or all out. Peggy always seems to matter to him though :)_

"You look like you're a spy trying to get out of the Kremlin before someone spots you." Don noted wryly as Peggy kept glancing at the door of SCP while they waited for the elevator.

"I know you and Megan weren't big on being subtle, but that's the way I like it." She said out of the corner of her mouth, staring at the elevator doors intently as they opened. Don rolled his eyes, and followed Peggy onto the lift.

"That seems to be a new development since the St. Joseph's ad." The petite woman jabbed the button for the main floor.

"Yes, but we weren't actually sleeping together then." Don raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Really?" At her stony silence, he muttered "I'd hate to have seen you two if you _had_ been going at it." Peggy shrugged her shoulders.

"It probably wouldn't have been as bad then. It's good to let off some sexual tension." Don smirked and grabbed for her waist, but the brunette slapped his hands away and gave him a harsh stare.

"Not at work, Don." He sighed and rolled his eyes again, but returned his hands to his briefcase and stared at the ceiling as they descended.

* * *

"So," Don held his burger in his hands as he looked at Peggy. "We can't pitch for Tiffany's because McCann is. Apparently there's a clause in the buyout that states this. However, I was thinking that we offer them Ted instead of you. I mean, he's obviously not as good, but McCann doesn't know that. I think Ted is dying to go over there anyway. He keeps complaining about how he doesn't want to do this anymore." He took a bite into his burger, and Peggy sighed and fiddled with a french fry.

"Don, you're assuming that because _you_ don't want me to go, that _I _don't want to go." Don gave her a suspicious look at he chewed.

"I have never heard you say _one_ good word about McCann. I don't think I've heard you refer to them without swearing. Why _would_ you want to go over? You don't even wear jewellery."

"Because it is an amazing opportunity. And I could start wearing it. Besides Don, I think this could be good for our relationship." Don sputtered and choked on his burger.

"What?" Peggy looked at him tenderly and laid a hand on his.

"We won't have to pretend at work that we're not together. We can date like normal people – go to work separately, go out after work, have great sex, and not have to worry about keeping it a secret."

"_You_ want to keep us a secret. I'm perfectly happy bending you over a desk in a partners' meeting." Peggy smiled and rolled her eyes, and took her hands back to her diner meal.

"I just think it would be better for us if we weren't spending all this time together at work and then after work. I mean, that's what you and Megan did, and that didn't turn out so well..."

"Megan and I," Don started, his emerald eyes staring with intent. "didn't work out because I didn't know her before we got married, and she didn't know me. I know you inside and out – every beautiful, ugly, crazy thing. You're impatient, you speak before you think, you're brash, and you're stubborn beyond belief. You're intelligent, kind, passionate, and in the moments where you _need_ to say the right thing, you always find the words_. _I want all of it. I want all of you, all the time." She blushed and looked down, embarrassed by the thought that she was that transparent, but also partly afraid at the idea that someone could see all of it and still want to be with her. Abe had run when he had figured out who she really was, Ted had abandoned her, and Pete had only loved her when she was submissive to him. Was she running to McCann out of fear? She swallowed, and looked into her drink. As much as she berated Don for his shitty relationship history, hers wasn't any better, and unfortunately, she was the common denominator. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if the two of them were train wrecks headed straight for one another. It was scary, and thrilling, and it made her want to run, and she wasn't sure if it was towards him or away from him.

"Don, there will be plenty of time for us to work together. We've got a decade behind us, and a few more in front. Six months won't be the end of the world. I think it would be good." Don shifted in his seat, staring at her.

"Whatever you want." He said softly, even though neither of them believed he meant it.

* * *

"Joan." Roger waltzed in her office, and Joan appraised him over her glasses.

"Roger. Is there a corvette to go with your midlife crisis?" She asked. He laughed, then sighed as he plopped himself in the chair in front of her desk.

"I've been thinking-"

"Of course you have. And no, I'm dating someone." She replied. Roger groaned and made a look of agony.

"I knew you would be. A beautiful woman is never alone if she doesn't want to be." Joan ignored and and stared at the financial statements again. Roger watched her, a tinge of regret in his features. "My mother died, you know." Joan sighed.

"Yes Roger, a couple of years ago. How many girls have you used _that_ line on?"

"Quite a few. It's surprisingly effective. I think there's some sort of maternal instinct that you can use to your advantage. With _most_ women." The redhead fixed him with a stern gaze.

"Roger, is there anything you need, or can you excuse yourself?"

"I want to talk to you about Kevin." Joan leaned back in her seat, taking off her glasses, and looked at Roger pointedly.

"What about Kevin?"

"I just..." Roger spread his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees as he gazed at the most beautiful woman he had ever been with. "I don't know. I don't know _why_ it's suddenly bothering me, but it is. He's getting big." She nodded, still fixing him with that same, patient yet waiting look.

"Yes. He'll start school the year after next."

"Huh. I didn't realize he was _that_ big." He looked into his hands. "I mean, how is he going to navigate life without a father? School is a tough time for a kid. When I was in third grade, the sixth graders would always beat me up and take the chocolate bar my mother packed." Joan raised her eyebrows.

"Your mother gave you a chocolate bar _every day_?" Roger shrugged.

"You're right. Come to think of it, I should be glad. I managed to keep my svelte figure, no thanks to her. Don't give Kevin a chocolate bar everyday." Joan smiled.

"I won't."

"But really, he just spends a lot of time with you and your mom. That kid is going to be the biggest mama's boy that New York has ever seen. He needs a male influence, to toughen him up. I could get him smoking by second grade. He'd be the coolest kid there." Joan sighed and put her arms across her chest.

"Roger, what do you _want_?" He shrugged and looked down at the floor self-consciously.

"I don't know. I just thought 'Wouldn't it be nice to have a son?' And then I realized, I do. And he doesn't know me. I think I'd like to spend more time with him. Take him out, do guy stuff together."

"Roger, my mother doesn't know that you are his father. It is going to look strange that you suddenly are coming by so often." Roger shrugged.

"Tell her the truth – I am a man who is madly in love with you, trying to win you over by winning the kid over." Joan's eyes narrowed.

"You can't say those kinds of things."

"Why not? If it's true it's true, whether you say it out loud or not." Roger took out a cigarette and lit it. "Think about it, will you?"

"Fine." She replied deliberately.

"Good. Now, who do you think Peggy is banging at the office?" He asked.

"Ted, obviously." Roger shook his head.

"I never understood that. If I was a woman, Ted is _not _what I'd be looking for. He's like a puppy who might pee on your leg at any moment. I'd want someone more charming, more debonair." Joan clasped her hands and put them on her desk, lost in thought.

"I don't think that is the kind of man that Peggy goes for. I think she likes men who dream big and love passionately with all of their heart." Roger chuckled.

"Don is going to bed upset then." Joan's eyes narrowed and her face frowned in confusion.

"What?" Roger waved her off and took a drag.

"Apparently Don has this huge thing for Peggy. I thought he was going to cry at the bar when he told me about it. That's why he almost had an aneurysm about her leaving. What is even _more _interesting – well, OK, nothing really tops that. But _equally_ interesting is apparently Peggy doesn't want him."

"Of course she doesn't." Joan scolded. "That man is a mess, in every way. She's too smart to be drawn into _that_."

"Oh, because Ted was any better? At least Don isn't a hapless sheep, getting ready to go to slaughter. The _only_ person who doesn't complain about McCann's oversight is Ted. He even _defends_ them. How sick is that? If Ted were a five year old, he'd be wandering off with the child molester at the park. In fact, every time Jim Hobart wanders in here, I'm afraid he's going to offer Ted some candy." Joan laughed and, for a moment that Roger missed, she looked at him with a tenderness he hadn't seen in a long time.

"Honey, come out with me for a drink. For old time's sake." He said suddenly. She shook her head.

"I have to have these financial statements ready for the partners' meeting on Monday."

"But Joan," he whined. "It's late, and you shouldn't be alone with a calculator." She put her glasses back on and nodded towards the door.

"Goodnight, Roger."

* * *

Don walked with Peggy back to her apartment. She let him in, and he inspected the building apprehensively.

"Peggy, if you're going to go and work at McCann, I'd like you to move in with me." Peggy's head snapped around and she dropped the coat that she was going to hang.

"_What_?"

"This building is not a great place to live." He replied, and stepped forward and put his hands on her waist, his eyes filled with a patronly concern. "Especially not for a young woman. I worry about you coming back here late at night."

"Don," Peggy shook her head and removed his hands from her. "We've been officially together for 24 hours. Isn't that moving a bit fast?" He gave her a pitying yet frustrated look, as if she were just a little too slow for her own good.

"It isn't about _us_, Peggy. It's about _you _and _your_ safety. One day you are going to be robbed, or mugged, or raped, and - "

"This _is _about us!" Peggy yelled. "I'm going to McCann, and you can't handle it, so you have to try to find some other way to control me. I've been fine in this apartment for the last few years, I think I can last a bit longer before being raped and stabbed and left in an alley to die."

"You're being ridiculous." He replied calmly. "Look, I know you're sunk a lot of money into this, and if you can't sell it for at least what you bought it for, I will give you the extra money plus inflation." Peggy sighed and went and flopped down on her couch, gazing up at Don with a stormy affection.

"The thing is, I know you're a man who likes beginnings, and then runs off when it starts getting hard. Don't deny it Don – everyone knows that about you. Every woman wants to think she's different, and that she's the one who will make you change, and I suppose I've bought into that as well." She smirked to herself. "But I can't go throwing my life away for a chance, Don. I don't want to be in the position of working with you, living with you, and receiving a call from you late one night when you've randomly gone away, and hearing 'I've found someone else. Be moved out in five days.' I'm giving this a chance, but I can't dive in with my eyes closed." Don looked shell shocked, and he stared at her, bewildered.

"I would never-"

"I know you don't mean to, Don. I don't think you ever consciously hurt anyone. But I've seen it happen, and I'm going to need more reassurance before I start changing my life to be in yours. OK?" He stared, and felt a misty film come to his eyes, and he nodded. She smiled with a kind sadness, and got up and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"For now, you can protect me from the evil of New York city for tonight." She brought his hand to her cheek, and tenderly rubbed her face against his palm. He nodded, and she took his hand and led him to her bedroom.


	15. Skinnamarinkydinkydink, shkinnamarinkydo

_**Author's Note: **Thank you! Irma, thank you for always reading and reviewing. I know I tend to update quite often (I swear I am gainfully employed), so it is quite incredible when someone can keep up with me :) And Letostag, I know I characterize Roger too much, but damn I love him!_

Peggy entered the office of McCann Erickson, and felt like she might become shipwrecked in the sea of bodies and corridors. Jim Hobart's secretary had given her specific directions to his office, which she was incredibly grateful for now, as she wasn't sure if anyone would have stopped if she had asked. The office seemed like a microcosm of New York – overcrowded, unfriendly to outsiders, and never stopping. She was grateful, when she arrived to his floor, that it was less busy and rushing.

"Ms. Olson." Jim greeted her kindly as his secretary let her in. "Perfect timing, everyone else has just arrived. This is going to be your Tiffany's team." She looked around, and found three men and another woman sitting in various places in his office. "Ferg is the account man on this, and then we have Jeremy on artwork, and James on our TV production team. Elizabeth is another copywriter, but she's just here for you to bounce ideas off of and to help out when you need some inspiration. This will largely be _your _project. It will be your full-time work, as well as Jeremy's, and the others will pitch in as needed." Peggy nodded, and looked around anxiously.

"Can I put my coat somewhere?"

* * *

Don was especially irritated this morning. It was Peggy's first day at McCann, which meant that he was at the office, wondering who the hell was going to fill her shoes. Worst of all, they both had been at the office all of Saturday and Sunday, pushing for a Folger's Christmas campaign, and she had refused to let him sleep over that night.

"_I need to be refreshed, and I can't do that with you in my bed all night." _She had said it with a flirtatious smile, but the sentiment still irked him. He had wheedled her with promises of releasing any tension she might have before she left for the morning, but she had held steadfast. He kept drumming his fingers on his desk, and looking at the clock. She had vowed to call him when she had a chance, and he had arrived at work unusually early just so he wouldn't miss it. It was now 9:30, and his skin itched.

"Meredith, tell Ted I need to see him immediately." Don demanded. The speaker crackled.

"Right away Mr. Draper." Don continued to drum his fingers against his desk until Ted arrived, smiling with a handful of papers in his hand.

"Hey, what's so urgent?" He asked, and sat down in the chair in front of Don's desk, crossing his left ankle over his right knee so that he could use it for a makeshift surface as he made more notes on a document.

"Now that Peggy is gone, we need to divide up her work. To be honest, I don't know how we're going to do it. You need to start pulling your weight around here, Ted." He glared. The redhaired man stopped his scribbling and looked up, confused.

"Don, we've been trying to get you to divide her workload up since she accepted the position two weeks ago, and you've been keeping your head in the sand. If we had done this even a week ago, there wouldn't be this urgency now." Don simply glared, and Ted sighed. "Look, we have three creative directors, if you include Avery, which I don't. We can take the major accounts – anything over a million – and divide them between us, and get some freelancers to work on the smaller stuff. It'll mean more work for us, but I don't think either of us wants to fill Peggy's position unless she announces she's going over to McCann for good." Don picked up his whiskey and took a sip.

"Well, she won't be, so that is a good idea. She's also coming in on weekends to do some freelance work for us, so there are certain things that require her touch that we can leave for her. Tampax, Topaz, you know." Ted nodded.

"Right. So you can take on Hugo Boss, Chevalier, I'll take on Ciba - "

"No." Don shook his head. "Ciba loves Peggy, we can't take her off of it."

"So I heard." Ted muttered as he made some notes. Don raised an eyebrow.

"Are you still trying to make friends with her, or whatever you were trying to do?" Ted looked up and bit his lips.

"I'm not sure. I've heard she's having a fling with someone in the office, so it looks like that ship has sailed. I'm not happy about it, but I guess that is what happens when you fuck it up so grandly."

"I guess." Don looked through the bottom of his glass.

* * *

Peggy had been shown her office, which predictably was hidden in the bowels of the building, right next to the maintenance quarters. She wasn't particularly happy, but she had expected something similar, and for six months, should could suffer it. Elizabeth had been the one to get her settled in, which she was doing with great abandon. Elizabeth, as it turned out, like to talk. A lot.

"And then Joe and Mary had a fling, but it ended badly because her husband found out and he actually came into the office one day, incredibly drunk at 10am, and tried to go and see Joe to beat him up. It was quite dramatic, the police were called and the entire office was in an uproar for weeks. So she mostly keeps to herself now, although I noticed that James, not Jim, has been talking to her more, and I'm wondering if it's going to happen again. The entire office is taking bets on it, actually. We have quite a few betting pools around here, it's really easy to lose your money. In fact, one time we had a guy bet his fiancée's wedding ring on who was going to win the Stanley Cup, and wouldn't you know, he bet on the wrong team, and the guys still made him give up the ring and-"

"Where is the coffee?" Elizabeth looked surprised at the interruption, but then tilted her head up.

"There's a coffee station on almost every floor, except for this one."

"Great." She sighed. Her new coworker looked at her kindly.

"I hope you won't talk this offensively, but a lot of the copywriter girls might be rather cold to you. A lot of us wanted to be on this account, and they're a little sore that you were brought in from the outside. Some of them have even stopped talking to _me_, which seems a little unfair, but oh well. I guess that is office politics for you!" Peggy gave a forced smile.

"I guess so."

"Don't let it put you off, most of the people here are great. There is always the occasional bad apple. You might want to stay away from Margie, who works in accounting. She is always so miserable, which is horrible because she does payroll, and you can never talk to her about anything. One time I noticed that there was a day's pay missing from my cheque, so I went to talk to her about it, and..." Peggy tuned Elizabeth out as she continued. _Everything is going to be OK _she repeated to herself. _Everything is going to be O.K._

* * *

Finally, around 11:30am, Don broke down and called McCann's main reception. When he asked to be transferred to Peggy Olson, he was met with a confused "Who?" He had sighed, and told the woman not to worry about it, and hung up. It looked like he had to wait on her. He had four different accounts on his desk, and he couldn't focus on any of them. He simply kept drumming his fingers on the oak, occasionally answering calls and staring out the window, drinking sullenly.

"Ms. Harris here to see you." Meredith buzzed shortly before noon.

"Send her in." He buzzed back. Joan entered his office, looking as glamourous and beautiful as she always did.

"What can I do for you?" He asked. She sat down in the chair across from his desk and opened up the file folder she had brought in.

"I heard you spoke with Ted and finally divided up Peggy's accounts. For the next quarter financials, I'd like to know approximately how many freelance hours we're going to pay. As much as I loath to admit it, not having Peggy on the payroll could save us some money for the next six months."

"Are you going to include all the contracts we might lose because we have Jerry from the freelance pool sticking his fingers into it?" Joan gave him a tired look, and Don sighed and looked up. "A rough estimate is 20 hours per week for six months." Joan scribbled down a couple of lines in her file, and got up.

"That was what I needed. Thank you, Don."

"Joan, did you want Peggy to go?" He asked, giving her a piercing look. She cocked her head to the side.

"No. But I want her to keep rising." She said evenly. He held her gaze.

"It's unfair."

"I know, Don." She gave him a look of sympathy that he had rarely seen from her in 16 years, and he suddenly felt like she knew more than either of them had said. It made him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Have a good lunch, Joan."

* * *

At 1:00pm, Meredith buzzed him. "Ms. Olson on line one." He immediately grabbed the phone and took a deep breath before answering.

"Hello Peggy." He said.

"Hey Don." She responded, sounding weary. His ears perked up.

"Is it going that badly already?" He asked, silently hoping that Tiffany's wasn't all she thought it was going to be.

"It's not _bad._ It's just... busy. And cold." Don smiled at the hint of frustration in her voice and leaned back in his chair.

"You can always come home, honey."

"They put me in the basement, Don. I'm not going to see sunlight for 8 hours a day." She groaned.

"For a 15 million dollar account I think they could have done a bit better for you."

"You're telling me. I don't even have a secretary. I have to answer my own damn phone."

"I could send Meredith over." He offered.

"It's alright, I probably won't even get any calls. I'll just die down here, and eventually maintenance will investigate the foul odour." Don wouldn't admit it, but he had been drinking steadily enough throughout the morning that he was a little tipsy. In his loosened state, hearing from Peggy was a riveting experience. Her voice sounded like a chorus of angels, and Don felt like if he gripped his telephone hard enough he might feel her skin beneath his. He closed his eyes, focusing his attention completely on the woman who had almost gotten away.

"What does your team look like?" He asked.

"Another copywriter on the account part-time, a full-time artist, an account man and some version of Harry Crane for TV. We had a meeting to go over the basics, now I've got to start turning out ideas."

"What do you have so far?" Don stood and went over to his bar cart, throwing some ice into a glass and pouring himself some rye.

"I keep thinking, what do women want when they they get jewellery? What does it say to them? And I think it's this idea that there is this incredibly valuable trinket, made of rare metals and stones, and when a husband or boyfriend buys them this gift, it's saying 'You are more valuable to me than these precious stones. I'm spending this money on you because I know that all the funds wrapped up in this piece is but a fraction of what you are worth to me.' The _woman_ is truly the precious thing, not the stones. It makes her feel cherished." Don took a sip, and let the idea bounce around in his mind.

"That's good. From the other side, it means 'I finally bought it. Stop asking, and shut up about getting the shed built.'"

"The makings of a 15 million dollar ad campaign." She replied dryly.

"How about 'Sorry I cheated on you with your best friend, how much to buy back your affection?'"

"I think that is a strong subtext. Maybe the tagline will be 'When both of you know he fucked up, Tiffany's is there.'" They both laughed. Peggy was smiling broadly, and for a moment they both sat quietly, enjoying the comfortable space between them.

"Peggy." He said suddenly.

"Hmmm?" She asked.

"I love you." Her breath caught in her throat, and her mind went blank. Peggy knew he loved her, but she had known that before they started sleeping together. This was a declaration of a different kind of love, one that they had been dancing around the edges of since that night in Ohio, and she was exhilarated and terrified at the same time. This wasn't something that could be taken back, or glossed over, and she knew that if _this_ failed between the two of them, that was it. They were over, as friends, as coworkers, as mentor and protege. But if it did work out, it could be amazing. The entire thing felt like an uncontrollable runaway train, and she was still unsure if she was going to hop on the car with Don. She cleared her throat.

"Don, I..." Then she heard the sound of a knock at her door. "Don, I have to go." She could almost feel his melancholy on the other end of the line, and she silently cursed herself. She had found the wrong words yet again.

"Ristorante Italiano, 7pm?" Don asked, wearily. She beamed into the phone.

"Sure. I'll see you then." She paused, and then willed herself to stop thinking, overanalyzing, for a brief moment. She quickly hissed "I love you too" and then hung up, feeling a small and belated victory. The brunette then wiped the grin off her face, and smoothed down her skirt self-consciously.

"Come in." Ferg opened the door with a grin that radiated insincerity and smugness.

"Hello new girl." Peggy forced out a small smile and laugh, and grabbed her pencil, trying to make it look like she was deep in the thought process.

"I haven't been called _that_ in a long time." Ferg sauntered over, full of some undeserved bravado that repulsed her.

"So, have you got anything yet?" Peggy shook her head.

"I'm working on ideas, but nothing concrete yet." He nodded, and swaggered over to her desk, putting both of his hands on it and leaning over, staring at her like he was a smug lion.

"You know what always helps me, Peggy?" His voice was low and gravelly, and Peggy could smell the scent of altoid mints on his breath.

"No."

"I like to have a few drinks, relax, and then whatever problem I'm working on seems to find a miraculous solution." There was a silence, and she wasn't sure exactly what she was supposed to say.

"Drinking does have some magical properties." She finally agreed half-heartedly, trying to avoid the intensity of his stare.

"Come out with me tonight. We'll have a few drinks, shoot the shit, and see where we get to." The young brunette looked back into his gaze and blinked.

"Well, I have a boyfriend, so I think I'll pass on that." Ferg only smiled wider.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Come on, Peggy. Just a drink or two." She shook her head, a little too rapidly for a polite rejection.

"Sorry, I have plans." He removed his hands from the desk, and looked at her with his suggestive eyebrows wiggling.

"Let me know if you change your mind." He sauntered back out, closing the door after him, and Peggy sighed and let her head hit the desk.


	16. Diamond in the Rough

_**Author's Note:**__ Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I was on vacation. But now I am back on the wagon! Letostag, I don't think ANYONE has to worry about their girlfriend leaving them for Ferg. He's quite the scumbag :)_

Don noticed that he was putting on a bit of weight around his mid-section, and it made him grouchy. His pants were slightly too tight, and his belly bulged against his usually form-fitting jackets. Apparently taking Peggy out for dinner and drinks every night was not good for his waistline.

"Honey," he sighed on the phone. "We need to have more... vigorous sex."

"What?" Peggy laughed. "What makes you say that? And what does 'vigorous sex' even mean?"

"Eating dinner every night is not doing me any favours."

"So what, before I went to McCann, you never ate dinner?" She asked incredulously.

"Rarely. It always seemed like such a hassle."

"Well, what if you cut back on drinking?" She asked innocently.

"What, and start losing drinking competitions with Roger? There is a pecking order at this office I need to maintain." He said, watching his ice cubes float in his whiskey.

"Well, what if you ordered salads instead of steaks the size of Manhattan?" Don made a face.

"Rabbit food, that's the answer you have for me. I thought women were supposed to be experts at weight loss."

"If we were, we wouldn't need the Relaxiciser." Don suddenly broke into a grin, remembering one of Peggy's first campaigns.

"Do you ever still use it?" He asked slyly. He could almost hear the sound of her eyeballs rolling on the other end of the line.

"I think that you keep the area occupied enough that there simply isn't time."

"I am very thorough." Don observed. "I have a partner's meeting five minutes ago. Bourbon for two at my apartment tonight?" Peggy laughed.

"Alright Don. I will be bringing over some salads though. No one ever has to know you ate one."

"We'll see how that goes. Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Goodbye Don. I love you." She hung up, and Don did as well as he smiled.

* * *

"We need to discuss Peggy's absence." Pete snapped, tapping a finger on the storyboards in front of him.

"We've discussed her workload a dozen times, why doesn't the creative department seem to have a handle on this?" Cutler asked, giving a pointed glance at Don.

"She's come in every weekend since she went to McCann, I don't know what more we can ask from her." Don snapped, throwing up his arms helplessly. Of course, much of the weekend had been spent making love on his office couch, but it didn't seem prudent to bring that up.

"It's been a month, and creative is already going to shit." Pete grabbed his storyboards and held them up.

"This is the latest Tampax ad from creative. Peggy has been working on Ciba the entire time she's been here, so we've had to go to our freelancers. Tampax hates it, and demands that she be back on the account. They're threatening to pull their contract once it ends." The picture was of a woman dressed in a swimsuit, looking over her shoulder secretively, with the tagline 'No one has to know'.

"I don't get it." Roger complained. "What's wrong with it? Isn't that the entire idea behind those... things?"

"I don't know what's wrong with it either." Pete admitted. "The only woman freelancer we have right now is Marge, who is 60, and she had no opinions to offer."

"I'm sorry." Ted apologised. "I had no idea that it was going to be such a big deal. I thought it was good."

"It's too shameful." Don interjected. "'This product is the only thing that keeps you from being a pariah at social gatherings'? I wouldn't buy it either, it's crap."

"Well maybe you should take the account." Ted replied. "I could swap for one of yours."

"Fine." Don stubbed out his cigarette frustratedly. "Any other complaints from the peanut gallery?"

"Chevalier Blanc doesn't like their promotion for the upcoming Christmas season." Pete continued. "They loved the one for Noir, and if you remember, there are supposed to be two separate ad campaigns placed strategically in the same area. Nothing we've pitched has ignited their interest. We have the ad space in TV and magazines, but we have nothing to fill it."

"Jesus." Don sighed and let his head fall to one shoulder. "Ted, what have you been _doing_ in that office?" Ted bit his lip and tapped his pencil against his notepad.

"I don't like doing this anymore." He said quietly. "I don't want to be the guy making decisions, shitting on the bad ideas. I hate the responsibility, the politics."

"So what are you saying?" Roger demanded. "This really isn't the time to be jumping ship, Chaough." Ted nodded, still looking down at his notepad.

"I'll stay on as a creative director until Peggy comes back." He decided. "After that, I'm leaving SCP." He finally looked up and looked sweepingly at the partners. He then rose, and started to collect his things.

"Ted, I don't think this is the time to be making rash decisions." Joan implored. Ted looked at her.

"No Joan. This is exactly what I need. You can figure out the buyout, I'll sign whatever papers come my way." He grabbed his notepad and strolled out the door.

"Well, fuck it." Pete sighed, sitting back in his chair. "This is great."

"There are thousands of creative directors out there, we can replace him." Don said. Nevertheless, he still took out another cigarette and gave a long, hard drag.

"That may be so, but how many of them can balance you out?" Joan asked pointedly. Don frowned.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Jim leaned forward on his elbows, giving Don a hard stare. "That you are impulsive, brash, moody, hard to work with, and not a team player. We need to find someone not as bullheaded as you are."

"Suit yourself." Don replied shortly. "Sheep are a dime a dozen."

"So are lone wolves." Cutler replied. Don narrowed his eyes and sneered back.

"Fine. Let me know what else Ted screwed up on and send the list to my office." Don got up stormed out of the meeting room.

* * *

"And that is our third pitch." Peggy wrapped up her presentation to Jim Hobart and Ferg, with the rest of the team standing behind her, holding up the storyboards. Jim nodded his approval.

"Very nice work, Ms. Olson. I had heard rumours of your light touch, and I'm pleased to say that you have exceeded my expectations." Hobart's praise simultaneously made her flush with pride and feel queasy, like someone had fed her half a cup of cod liver oil. There was something incredibly ingenuine about everything he did and said, and sometimes she was left wondering if there was truly a man underneath that skin, or if he was a cardboard cutout of Satan.

"Now, I have an exciting prospect for all of you." Jim said, leaning on his desk as he made eye contact with everyone on the Tiffany's team. "Tiffany &amp; Co have invited you all out to spend 5 days at their mines in South Africa." There was a momentary silence from the room, and Peggy felt her heart flutter. _South Africa._

"With the political situation as it is, they want us to go and spend five days there? I could just go down to Harlem and get the shit kicked out of me and avoid the flight." Jeremy spoke.

"I've been assured that you will be with bodyguards the entire time, including your time in the mines and when you are put up in Johannesburg." He replied. "You're not obliged to go, but I would strongly encourage all of you to take this opportunity. Let me know by the end of the week, as Tiffany's will have to make the arrangements on their end. The trip will be in two weeks, and we'll pitch to Tiffany's two weeks after." Jim got up from his desk ledge, and went to seat himself around on the other side. "That will be all." The team slowly shuffled out the door, Jeremy taking the storyboards under his arm. Peggy felt like she was floating. An international trip!

"My husband would never let me go." Elizabeth started up immediately as they left the room. "I mean, he doesn't like me working as it is, and going to South Africa would be out of the question. You _never_ hear about good times coming out of that country. The entire place is barbaric." She continued to prattle on and Peggy tuned her out as they all stepped on the elevator going down.

_Peggy Olson, international adventurer._

_Peggy Olson, international woman of mystery._

_Peggy Olson: Digging in the Mines._

She was broken out of her reverie when she heard Ferg's annoying voice cut through Elizabeth's incessant talking.

"If I can handle the blacks here in America, I can handle them anywhere." He boasted confidently. The rest of the team got off on the 10th floor, and Ferg quickly jabbed the 'close door' button. Peggy frowned.

"Ferg, that's your floor."

"I know sweetie. I just wanted to have a private conversation with you." Mentally, Peggy sighed. "Are _you_ going on the trip?"

"I don't see why not. I've always wanted to travel." He nodded.

"When you're with me, you won't have to worry about anything. I'll keep you safe." He smirked. "Women love a hero."

"I have a boyfriend." She reminded him harshly for the umpteenth time.

"Sure, but he's not going to be there when some darkie comes up to you and tries to grab you, or breaks into your hotel room to rape you." Ferg replied.

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but I think I'll be alright." Peggy said through gritted teeth, and was relieved them they arrived in the basement. She walked out, not looking back, and hoping that Ferg would take the hint not to follow.

* * *

Don had his eyes closed, one arm around Peggy as the other hand held his drink. There had never been a time where things felt so right in his life, and despite the fact that SCP was falling apart at the seems didn't seem to bother him as much as it should have. He needed Peggy, and soon SCP would have her back as well. Then everything would be right.

"Pegs." He asked suddenly.

"Mmmm?" She asked, stroking his chest hair lightly as she looked up at him.

"What is your secret for Playtex?" He asked. "How do you take such a... sensitive product, and make it advertisable to the masses?" She frowned for a moment, and thought.

"I think that for women, you have to make it something like a private club. A sneaky ad that men may not quite understand, but you do, because you're a woman. You want something where a woman and her husband are both looking at the same thing, but she smiles at it, and he's just confused. A sort of sisterhood bond, I suppose." Don sighed deeply, and she looked up at him. "Why? Having problems with Playtex?" He snorted, and brushed the errant strands of hair away from her face.

"I don't even want to talk about that." Peggy looked at him curiously, but didn't press the issue.

"Well, something exciting happened at work today, believe or not." She said.

"Oh?"

"Well," Peggy crawled on top of him and folded her arms on his chest, resting her chin as she smiled brightly. "Tiffany's is taking the creative team to the mines of South Africa." Don looked at her incredulously.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes! Think of it – me, in South Africa! I think we're going to fly into Johannesburg and go out from there. All expenses paid. I think they're flying out a few other agencies as well, which is pretty incredible, but apparently they want us to be inspired by the process." Don continued to stare.

"Peggy, you're not going to South Africa. That is ridiculous." Peggy frowned.

"And now you're in the position of telling me what to do?"

"I'm not telling you to do anything. It's insane what is going on in that country."

"We'll have bodyguards." She insisted. Don snorted.

"That'll help when they detonate a nuclear bomb. Have you been reading the papers?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll be safe." Don shook his head, but didn't say anything further. He just laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. Peggy knew it was silly, but somehow she needed his permission to go. Suddenly, Don's opinion had become an important factor in her life once again, and while part of her hated it, another part of her just really needed him to be happy for her. "I'll bring you back a souvenir..." He sighed.

"I know I can't tell you not to go, because when have you ever listened? Just be safe out there. Don't get away from the bodyguards, and don't talk to the locals. Also, don't join any shady underground movements." Peggy smiled half-heartedly.

"I'll be fine. I'll just have a better tan."


End file.
